


P A C T

by Prodigalsan



Series: Wolves, Witches, and Other Weirdies [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, CRACK AS HELL, Demon Harry, Discussions on Servitude, Liberal interpretations of witchcraft, M/M, Religious Themes, Though Not Serious, Witch Eggsy, World building if I don't get lazy lol, lmao get it, self-indulgent af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-04-21 10:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14282538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prodigalsan/pseuds/Prodigalsan
Summary: “…No.” Eggsy shook his head. His bottom lip wobbled, and the shaking turned desperate as he fell to his knees. “No, no,no, it can’t be—““Oh, but itcan,” Harry said with relish, and he slowly went down on his knees to meet his master’s wild gaze, and his large smile proudly displayed his sharp, pearly whites. Feeling a little whimsical, he raised his hands and waved them around, grinning like a loon.“Hello, master,” he greeted brightly. “I’mbaaack.”--In which Harry is onehellof a demon, and Eggsy is one step away from losing his mind because of said demon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have no idea how l o n g I've wanted to post this. This was just sitting in my hard drive for months, doomed to only be edited every now and then, because despite being in love with this concept, I'm high-key embarrassed because. Well. You'll see? 
> 
> This fic is already finished, but I hardly doubt you'll appreciate having to read over 50,000 words in one sitting lmao. And I think I want to edit or add to the story more, so you get the first four parts for now. ~~I actually have ANOTHER Demon!Harry/Witch!Eggsy fic in the works and seriously I have to s to p~~
> 
> BTW, there _will_ be discussion of religion here, and while I'm confident most of you won't take this too seriously, please note that I have nothing against Christianity at all, being Catholic myself. This is just a fic, but just in case you're sensitive about that sort of thing, please click the back button and move along~

✪ **Part One: Pact Breaker ✪**

 

 

_Forty-two years._

It was strange how one could be so completely aware of the passage of time despite living outside of it. But the knowledge came to him, clear as day, as if he had never been banished—never been imprisoned, and perhaps this was just as well. There could only be _one_ person summoning him, after all, so it was crucial that he be at his best state of mind. 

But he couldn’t help but wonder who, exactly, the person on the other side is. Would it be _her_ , after all this time, or would it be someone new: a bright-eyed descendant who had been curious enough to summon the demon who had sworn servitude to their family, yet was cast out because of his “meddling”?

Bright light engulfed him, and he waited for the fog of white in his vision to clear. Floating red eyes blinked to adjust to his environment, and his spectral, misty-formed head swivelled to take in the new world around him. 

It was a very cramped, unkempt, and sightly _smelly_ new world. His eyes narrowed; his former mistress left him for _this_?

“Holy shit,” came a breathy voice behind him. It was deep enough to be male, he thought, but he swivelled his head towards the source to be sure. True enough, a young man stood with his mouth agape, looking torn between laughing and breaking down into tears. “It was fucking real. The book was fuckin’ real. What the _fuck_.”

He didn’t have time to be offended by the young man’s vulgarity, as he was focused entirely on his eyes. They were not quite blue, but not quite green either, and even in their wild, slightly crazed state, they glimmered and glowed and, _oh, they were so very beautiful_. 

And familiar. 

Red eyes widened, and without warning, he sprung at the young man, letting out a high-pitched wail when an invisible wall kept him from enveloping the summoner in his misty embrace.

“The fuck!” The young man stumbled back and hit the door, and he winced and rubbed his neck. He stared up at the misty being, narrowed eyes glancing briefly at the ground before shifting back to him. He pointed at him and said, “nice try, _demon_ , but you ain’t gonna get me so easily. I did my research an’ all, ‘cause I ain’t _stupid_ like those idjits in them horror movies!”

The demon blinked, momentarily distracted by the ethereal visage the panting boy graced him with. Eventually he followed the summoner’s gaze, and he hissed at the sight of his crudely-drawn insignia warded heavily with a thick layer of rock salt. 

His eyes narrowed. Well, no _wonder_ it had hurt.

“I beg your pardon,” he finally said with a voice that rumbled and came from all sides. The young man’s back collided with the door again. “It has… been a while since I’ve been summoned by an Unwin, and I will admit that I became a little too excited at the prospect of reacquainting myself with this service. Please forgive me.”

“…It’s a’right. I guess,” the young man said, voice hushing at the end and feet slowly approaching the circle. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes shifting. “Uh. Hello, I s’pose.”

“ _Hello,_ master.” Red eyes turned into crescents. “Are you Margaret’s youngest? Or are you possibly her grandson?”

Perfect blue-green eyes blinked, and the summoner inched a little to the left, where a thick, red-leather tome sat carelessly on the floor. Red eyes stared as the boy thumbed through the pages, the sight causing his entire form to tingle and sway.

Forty-two years. It had been forty-two years since he last saw the Unwin Grimoire, and Margaret Unwin had been preparing to lock him away before she bound herself to that Christian fellow she fell in love with. 

He looked around again, taking in the state of the stained walls and ugly furniture. What would Margaret do, he wondered, if she found out that her actions had caused her family to spiral into a state of poverty, for that was clearly the life his new master was walking? Would she feel shame? Would she regret?

The demon shook his head. Pointless thoughts, all of it. The past could not be changed, no matter how much he mourned for his previous mistress and her misguided actions.

“I’m her grandson, yeah. Lee was her son. That’s me da,” the beautiful-eyed boy finally answered, shutting the Unwin Grimoire with a firm thump, staring up at the demon determinedly. “And you’s a demon.”

“Brilliant observation,” he said, red eyes forming thinner crescents as his misty form shook. The boy growled lowly at him, and the demon just laughed all the more. “No offense meant, my dear master. I am, indeed, a demon, and I am bound in service to the House of Unwin till the end of days—or until the end of your line.

“Tell me,” he added, misty form swaying in the space allowed to him, head twisting and turning, red eyes bouncing. “What noble name has master been graced with, as carried by the howling wind and witnessed by the moon and the stars?”

“You what.” The boy squinted at him for a moment, before those beautiful eyes rounded, as well as his mouth. “ _Oh_ , you meant my name. Uh. Well, it ain’t nothin’ fancy or anythin’, so just call me Eggsy.”

Red eyes stopped spinning and slowly blinked. “ _Eggsy_.”

The boy bristled and crossed his arms. “Yeah, that’s me name. You got a problem with it, bruv?”

“A descendant of master Gareth, founder of the most powerful witch coven in the United Kingdom, is named _Eggsy_.” His form continued swaying, but his eyes remained stagnant as they narrowed into slits. “To whom shall I promise eternal damnation for dubbing you with such a _hideous_ monicker? They deserve to suffer eternally in the Void for insulting the House of Unwin!”

“ _No one_ , bruv. And Eggsy’s a _fucking_ awesome name, thanks,” the young man said, lifting his chin up at the spectral being.

A red eye widened the slightest bit. “Oh? I assume every human on this plane is christened with the name, then, seeing as it is, as you say, _awesome_. Do forgive me for my impudence, master.”

“Why am I not surprised that you’s a sarcastic little shit?” The scowl on the young man’s face did nothing to smear his beauty. “Well, what’s _your_ name, then? If you’s _such_ an expert on what names sound good an’ all.”

His misty form paused. Then, after a beat of silence, said, “I possess many names, master, but the name I’ve taken since swearing myself to your ancestor is… _Haz_.”

“… _Haz_.” the boy repeated, his eyes flat but no less enrapturing. 

“Indeed. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, master Eggsy. I will do my best to fulfill your every wish.” He bowed, eyes closing for the briefest moment. When he looked up, the young Unwin was fidgeting, and he stilled. “Is there a problem, my master?”

Eggsy’s eyes shot up, and for a moment he looked disoriented. Then his eyes widened, and he approached Haz’s misty form with an aura of desperation encircling him. “Bruv, I summoned you for a reason. The book told me ‘bout you, and how you can do all kinds of shit. That true?”

His red eyes bobbed up and down, and his misty body formed tendrils as he shook. “That is true. I can fulfil everything your heart desires. Name it, and it shall be yours. I can give you mounds of gold, chests full of jewels, have the entire kingdom bowing at your feet, like so many years ag—“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, bruv, but can you, like, _heal_ people?” Eggsy interjected, waving his hands and bouncing in place.

Red eyes narrowed. He nodded slowly. “Yes. Are you in need of healing, master?”

“It ain’t for me, bruv. It’s for me mum.” Eggsy went to the door and kicked it open. Haz was so busy judging the horrid state of his master’s home, once again reminded of mistress Margaret’s mistake, that he didn’t notice the young man carrying a sack of rock salt till he was spilling the contents on the floor. Haz watched, silent and hovering, as Eggsy formed a makeshift road of salt that led outside the room. 

His eyes remained narrowed. He would have been more insulted at the lack of trust, but seeing as this was the first time his master had met him, Haz thought that he could overlook it for now. There would be plenty of time to form a bond, and oh, wasn’t that just _exhilarating_?

Haz had a master again—a _purpose_. He danced within the circle, spinning and forming loops in the air.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Eggsy said upon coming back. He narrowed his eyes when Haz immediately stilled, and he carefully kicked a portion of the rock salt barrier around his insignia. A new path was now open to Haz, but he dutifully kept still, waiting for his master to give him permission to venture out. “Follow me, yeah? And, uh, don’t mind the mess. Things got a little mental a while ago, and I didn’t have time to clean up before I prepared to summon ya.”

Haz’s misty form swayed as he followed his master out. His red eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of an overturned table and shattered glass bottles. He froze when he saw dried blood on the floor, anger building up in his core as he looked his master up and down. “Who has dared desecrate your living space, master?”

“Just call me ‘Eggsy,’ yeah? None of that master stuff,” Eggsy said. Then, with a quieter voice, added, “and it was me stepdad. Just came back from the pub around an hour ago, me, when I found me mum on the floor, passed out with blood poolin’ under her. Didn’t have no money to take her to hospital, so I thought she was fucked. I was gonna use this medal thing a bloke gave me mum years ago, but I remembered da’s book—“

“Grimoire,” Haz corrected gently, still floating after his master. “It is called the Unwin Grimoire, master Eggsy.”

“Right, whatever.” Eggsy rolled his eyes. “But yeah, I remember readin’ about some demon that me family’s friends with or whatever, and that they can do lots of things. So, I thought, you know, maybe they can heal me mum. Help her get better.”

“Of course, master. I will do _anything_ for you,” Haz crooned, and he relished in the way the young man shivered at the sound of his low, echoing voice. It would be a pleasure serving him, Haz was sure.

Eggsy stepped inside a slightly larger room, which Haz assumed was the master bedroom. On the bed was a blonde who’d seen better days: her hair disheveled, skin red and slowly forming bruises, and head caked with dried blood. She was unconscious, but still breathing. For now.

Haz stopped where the rock salt road ended, and red eyes softened at the sight of Eggsy’s glassy green-blues. 

“Your stepfather did this?” Eggsy nodded, and Haz let out a low, curdling growl. “Laying a hand on a former consort of Unwin… Rest assured, he shall pay for this, master.”

A small smile graced Eggsy’s face before dropping. He gestured towards his mother somewhat shakily. “So. Can you heal ‘er? _Please_?”

Haz nodded, turning to face the injured woman on the bed. “This will take but a moment, master.”

And he was true to his word. Even behind a rock salt barrier, Haz’s powers still had a sizeable reach. The wide-eyed look on his master’s face could have been from realizing this as well, or from simply witnessing magic so close. Haz felt sorrow at the thought, for his master could perform feats like this too, if he had been taught like he should have.

No matter. Haz was here now. He would make sure master Eggsy learned, and _promptly_. 

With the help of Haz’s powers, the woman’s skin started clearing, the bruises vanishing and the bones repairing, and the tear in the skin above her brow sewed itself closed. She still looked worse for wear, but at least her life was no longer held captive by the threat of death. Haz considered that a job well done.

Eggsy pulled the covers up to her chin, and he faced Haz with teary eyes and a beautiful smile. Haz sighed and relished the warm aura emanating from the young man. “T- _Thank you_ , bruv. I ain’t—I dunno what I would’ve done without you. Money’s real tight right now and I’m just—“

“Say no more, master Eggsy. After all, it is my sworn duty to serve you.” But the gratitude was always nice. He hadn’t had an Unwin truly _thank_ him for his services for many, many years, though Haz didn’t particularly want it. The privilege of serving the blood of his first master was payment enough, and now Haz could enjoy blissful servitude once more.

He stared at his new master’s visage and sighed again. Eggsy looked _so_ much like master Gareth. Seeing him was like standing in the path of a warm summer breeze after spending so much time in winter’s cold embrace. It made being trapped in Margaret’s prison almost worth it. Almost.

“Yeah, about that,” Eggsy said, biting his lip. He left the room, and Haz hovered loyally behind him. “How long was you’s a demon of ours? And how’d that happen, exactly? The book— _grimoire_ didn’t say nothin’.”

“Close to four hundred years, I can imagine, unless my sense of time has skewed.” His eyes turned to crescents as Eggsy gaped at him. “I’ve been in the service of your family since the time of master Gareth, your ancestor. He found me and kept me safe from demon slayers during the time when the Christian god’s followers had absolute power. It wasn’t long until I found myself forming a pact with him, and I’ve been serving his blood ever since.”

“And he just went with it? Havin’ a demon slave, an’ all?” There was a frown on Eggsy’s face. Haz decided he didn’t like seeing his master frown at all.

“Master Gareth refused, at first. But eventually he decided it meant protection for his family for a very long time, so he accepted the pact and enjoyed my service until the end of his days.”

“Did he really decide that, or did you _convince_ him?”

Red eyes formed crescents. Eggsy shook his head.

“ _Jesus_ ,” he whispered under his breath, and when Haz bristled, hesitated. “Uh, I meant. Wow. Amazin’. _Wicked_.”

“Quite.” Haz nodded, and he drifted back inside the first room, which he now realized was his master’s. He tutted at the state of the walls and the quality of the bed. This will not do. Not for his master. “What else do you need of me, master? Might I suggest providing you with better… living arrangements?”

Eggsy paused by the bed, and he looked up at Haz with bright eyes. Haz kept the excitement at bay as he thought of performing large feats of magic for his master, because _truly_ , it had been many years since he last truly served an Unwin, as the last four or five masters and mistresses steadily refrained from making use of him.

The thought of Eggsy using him, in all sense of the word, made him shiver and shake with anticipation. Oh, _yes_.

Just when Haz thought his master was about to take him on his offer, Eggsy shook his head, breaking the spell that kept the demon unable to float still. He grabbed the grimoire and sat at the foot of his tiny bed, thumbing through the pages with a serious look on his face. With the rock salt barrier, Haz was not able to see what his master was reading, but oh, was he curious to know.

He was curious to know _everything_ about his new master, in fact. He wanted to know him, from the tips of his copper-blond hair to the calloused skin under his feet, then from the flesh of his pale skin to the deepest, most intimate core of his soul. Haz wanted what his last few masters did not want to give him—what Gareth first gave him, so long ago.

Haz never wanted to be alone again. _Never_.

“So this pact thing,” Eggsy began after a few beats of silence. He looked up at Haz from under his lashes. “Is it, like, permanent or summat?”

Haz’s misty form stopped swaying, and his red eyes slowly narrowed as he considered the question. “Yes, master Eggsy. I am to serve the House of Unwin until the end of days. That is the contract, and both parties are bound to this for all eternity.”

Eggsy let out a deep breath. “So you’s gotta listen to me? Do what I tell you and stuff? Without question?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Haz resumed his free-floating, though his eyes remained suspicious. “And in return, I get to be close to the Unwin blood as a loyal servant.” _And never be alone again._

“That’s it? That’s all you get from this?” Eggsy stood up and approached him, brows furrowed and eyes glassy. Haz couldn’t help but wonder what was distressing his master so. “You don’t want nothin’ else?”

His misty head shook. “I assure you, master Eggsy, that I do not require anything else. It is my pleasure to serve you.”

Eggsy scoffed. “Bruv, there’s gotta be _some_ way to thank you. A better way. You saved me _mum_. I gotta repay you somehow.”

“And your presence is enough, master.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Master, _please_.”

“You can’t seriously be happy just bein’ a servant, bruv! I read about it, ya know. About what me grandmum did to you. She locked you up somewhere you can’t leave. A _prison_.” Eggsy let out a shaky breath, and oh, was he shedding tears for Haz? It was enough to render him speechless as the young man continued, “that was fucking cruel, bruv, and you may be a demon and everythin’, but you didn’t deserve that. And after what you did for me and mum, you deserve more than… more than _this_.”

“What are you saying, master?” Haz asked, his misty form solidifying into a vaguely human shape. The barrier kept him from getting closer to his master, but oh, did he try. 

The pages scratched against each other as Eggsy flipped through them with great speed, and he showed Haz a page that made the demon recoil in fear. It was a page that he remembered writing alongside Gareth, back when they did not intend for the pact to last till the very last Unwin, and he had honestly forgotten about it until today.

 _Pact Breaker_. Haz screeched and shook within the circle.

“Master, _no_. Please reconsider!” Haz banged his vaguely-formed fists on the wall as Eggsy murmured the incantation, practicing, brows furrowed. “Serving your family is its own reward. Please believe me!”

“That can’t be true,” Eggsy said, face pinched. “No one deserves to live in servitude. It ain’t right.”

“Î̾̏̍҉̼̩̩ ̴̬̝̯̌ͤ̂͑̔ͣͭW̡̥̦͕̫̯̩̗I̼̣̓̋ͭ́S̭͔͚̞̯̅̌̉ͧ͗ͥḪ͚̺̬̇͐͞ ̖̘̩͇͋̓͟T̴̪̤̼̻̆̌ͬ́ͧ̈̋ͅO̍ͧ͏̳̙̩̮̠ ̡̳͚̱̠͚̟͙ͪ̑ͯ̏̑̿ͩS̸̜̮̬͎̪̃ͭͣE̲̼̟̟̬̦͗̓͑̏R̨̥̠̯̜͖̹͑̓̎ͤͤ͗Ṿ̖͒ͮ̿ͥ͆͐͝E͋̊͟!̴̥̙̰̻̝ͪͩ” Haz wailed, voice garbled and eyes flashing a bright red. “M͇̟͝A͖̦͇S̨T͍̬E̦͎Ŕ͕̪̜͎̝, ̹̻͔̳͘I̙̯͎̝ ͖͙̜̯̺B͕͓̳͉̳̼E̼̹̳͚̻͠G ͖̮̹̪̻̀Y̧͉̯̻͚͎̰O̶͈̼̪̪͉̘U̱͜—“

Eggsy winced, but he didn’t falter. He held the grimoire in front of him and closed his eyes. Slowly, he built up power, his aura turning a beautiful shade of gold. It would have inspired awe in Haz were the circumstances different, but now it only made him shake and struggle against his cage. 

Haz didn’t want this. He would brave another forty years in darkness, but not _this_.

He didn’t want to be alone.

“M̫͞A҉͕̱S͎̥̕T̕ͅER,̶̙̰̤͉ ̶͓̲̪̱ _P̶L̨̜̩̣̝̜̬͔E̖͉̭̗̮̳̥͠A̗̥̤͜S̵̘͕̥̠̟ͅE͖͈̫͘_ —“

“P- _Powers that Be, heed my call_ ,” he began, voice and hands shaking. “ _For I seek to free this demon from my thrall_.”

Haz stopped listening. He screamed and struggled and scratched and _slammed_ , the dark tendrils on his back going out of control as he felt the horrific pull of _freedom_ grip his very core. A symbol flashed gold on his chest—the crest of Unwin, in its magnificence—and his claws tried chase it as it freed itself from his body and launched itself towards Eggsy’s palm, where it glowed brightly once before vanishing into his flesh. The tome started to glow, and a circle of power began forming around Eggsy as he finished breaking the pact.

Red eyes widened as the final verse escaped his master’s lips, freeing him from the tether that bound the demon to Unwin’s blood. He felt the pull of the Void grab at him, for a demon with no human anchor had no purpose in the mortal plane. 

Purpose. He had no _purpose_.

He reached out for his master—his _beautiful_ master, who thanked him and glowed bright like the warm sun, and pleaded, one last time, to remain his loyal, steadfast servant.

“You’s free now, bruv,” Eggsy closed the grimoire, hugging it to his chest. He gave Haz a shaky, wet smile as he steadily looked up. “Thanks for everythin’. Good luck, an’ all, yeah?”

Blue-green eyes were the last thing Haz saw before white fogged his vision.

 

 

It was quiet when he awoke.

Haz slowly blinked back into consciousness, and he stared dazedly into the glittering darkness. He looked down, up, and around, and darkness was there still. For a moment, he wondered if it had all been a cruel dream, and that he was still drifting afloat in Margaret’s prison, cruelly kept from his purpose and calling. 

He reached for the Unwin insignia in his chest, but he grasped at nothing. His eyes widened, and reality came rushing back at him, and he wailed into the darkness, heartbroken and alone.

Alone.

Freedom was so _lonely_.

 _‘Master,’_ he pleaded, and in the distance, a small twinkle grew little by little till he was speared with overwhelmingly bright light. _‘M̧Ạ̯̮ͦ̽ͮͣ̀ͧ̆S̛̘ͦ̃͛̈Ţ̹̳͖̗͕̟̎̈̅E̥͚ͨ̾͆̾ͧ͒̓ͅR͕͇͈̈́̇͂̇̾ͥ—‘_

The light swallowed him, and he was gone.

 

 

**✪ Part Two: Body Snatcher ✪**

 

 

_…alahad…?_

_Gala… ad…!_

_Galahad…!_

_GALAHAD!_

 

 

He opened his eyes and shot up, the thin cords attached to his arm going taut as he strangled the looming stranger’s neck. The woman choked as he tightened his hold on her neck, snarling and demanding who she was and _what_ , pray tell, was she trying to do to him?

“Galahad!”

His eyes shifted to the side, and another stranger came in the room, keeping his distance and gaping at him. He was male, tall, and bald, and something registered him as _familiar_ in his mind. The confusion he felt at this revelation caused him to loosen his grip on the woman’s neck, and he barely noticed her fleeing the room.

“Galahad.” The man’s deep voice tried reaching out to him, but he was miles away at this point. “Galahad— _Harry_. What happened?”

He swivelled his head to meet the stranger’s hazel gaze. Then he turned back to stare down at the white blanket covering his _very_ solid body. He raised his hands and turned them around, the veins on the back of his hands visible and surely pumping blood underneath the firm, soft flesh.

 _What happened_ , the stranger had asked. Well, that was something _he_ wanted to find out, as well.

The stranger went rigid when he voiced this aloud, and his brows lowered the tiniest bit. After a beat of silence, he asked, voice hushed, “Harry. What’s my name?”

The information came to him very suddenly, as well as images of a more youthful-looking stranger, with a head full of hair this time. His vision became littered with explosions, ugly faces that met the painful thrust of his punches and kicks, and the occasional fantastic eagle-eye view of various hotspots in the mortal plane. A thrill of warmth crept up his spine, and he realized, belatedly, that these were memories… and they were relatively positive ones.

He met the man’s narrowed eyes and smiled slowly, head tilting and fringe falling victim to gravity. “You are officially Merlin, but once upon a time, you were a humble farm boy named Hamish.”

The man’s shoulders relaxed, and he knew he gave the correct answer _._

 

 

The man whose body he now possessed was apparently named Harold Reginald Hart—known simply as Harry Hart, or _Galahad_ , when he was on duty as a Kingsman spy. (He almost laughed when he found out, because, really, a _spy_? Humans!) A man who reeked of morals and manners, Harry Hart was a gentleman to the core, and a man that _he_ had accidentally become, since the memories, knowledge, and emotions the man possessed had now became a permanent, personal part of him, as if they always _had_ been.

Realizing that had been… strange. And quite discomfiting, to be perfectly honest.

“Your psych evals came out perfectly fine,” Merlin informed him as he entered his ward, not bothering with good mornings and hello’s.

“That is a good thing, yes?” He, _Harry_ , said, not taking his eyes off the mirror provided to him. He tapped his chin and poked his hairy cheek, frowning when the sides of his eyes formed too many wrinkles for his liking.

“Yes,” Merlin answered slowly, watching Harry poke at himself with a frown. “But I’m going to keep you under observation, just in case.”

“Observation?” Harry asked, head swivelling so fast that Merlin blinked. It didn’t occur to him that his voice had lowered, almost inhumanly, and that his eyes were flashing. 

Merlin nodded slowly, eyes narrowing and taking a step back. “Yes. We need to make sure that you’re well enough to be allowed back into active duty after your accident. You didn’t expect to be just _cleared_ right away, especially after your episode, did you?”

“And what does this _observation_ entail?” Harry twisted his body so that he was completely facing Merlin, whom his now-human mind kept reminding him was supposedly a friend. It was the only thing that kept Harry from pushing him against the wall and snarling in his face.

“Just _observation_ , Galahad. You’ll be kept here in HQ, where we can make sure that you don’t have any more episodes and relapses. Going back on active duty right now would be _suicide_ , which I’m sure your thick little head can accept, albeit begrudgingly.”

Harry’s first impulse was to argue: say that he was ready to be cleared, to be _released,_ so he could finally have a chance to escape and look for his master. From what he could tell, they were still in the United Kingdom, so he wouldn’t have to travel far to find Eggsy. And he might be inhabiting the body of an aged human, but he was still very much a _demon_. The wounds he had incurred from pulling at the tubes had healed the moment he caused them.

But the logical, _human_ side of his brain argued against this impulsive, _demon_ thinking, claiming that attracting unwanted attention to himself would be a detriment to his goal. Harry Hart, _Galahad_ , was a lot like Haz: bound to serve an organization that hunted and spied and killed for the greater good, and any pursuits that were not aligned to the agency’s goals were viewed with suspicion. Given that, running off to Eggsy right now would only pose trouble for him in the end.

 _But he was a demon._ Why should he fear the repercussions of his actions when a simple snap of his fingers could snap necks and set the world ablaze?

 _Because they can and will hurt Eggsy_. The demon shrieked and deemed this unacceptable. No harm shall befall on his master, and he would sooner go back to his cold cage than allow his master to be hurt. 

Begrudgingly accepting the logic presented by his human mind, he agreed to Merlin’s terms. For now, at least.

When Merlin said all he needed and left him to his lonesome, the lights in the room flickered, and the unsightly hair on his face fell to the floor, leaving his frowning face clean and smooth. He turned his head to inspect his new visage, and he nodded, satisfied.

 _‘Well, at least this face is handsome,’_ he thought to himself as he stared at his reflection. He smiled, not even minding the crinkles that stemmed from the crescents of his eyes. _‘Only the best for_ my _master.’_

 

 

During the course of his “observation,” Harry got to know himself a little better. He reached for the deepest, most personal memories buried under the heavy weight of experience and time long passed, and he watched, like a spectator in a theater, the growth and formation of Harold Reginald Hart. He recalled a fondness for butterflies, _Emperor butterflies_ , particularly, and for small puppies named after food used as relish. He had quarterly appointments at a discreet salon that seamlessly dyed his greying temples, and a subscription to _SUN_ which he posted on his office walls after every mission. He held the highest record of successful missions in Kingsman, was deemed the best among his fellow agents, and had a mile-wide success streak, unless you count the incident with Lee Un—

The teacup he’d been holding shattered to the floor, and he rushed to the nearest computer where he accessed an old file dating back to 1997.

_Lee Unwin. Lancelot candidate nominated by Galahad. Failed to earn the position in December 1997, where he died in a mission in the Middle East after jumping on a bomb to save—_

Harry didn’t notice a team of medical staff hauling him out of the room, because he was busy screaming and trying to strangle himself.

 _This body killed an Unwin. This body killed an_ **_Unwin_** _._

“Sedate him,” Harry heard, and he hissed at a prickle in his neck before blacking out.

 

 

“So,” Merlin began, taking a seat by his bedside. He propped his clipboard on his lap and gave him a flat stare. “Are you going to explain or am I going to have to guess until I get it right?”

“Explain?” Harry asked, head tilting as he blinked his honey brown eyes at the other man. 

“ _Yes_. I keep viewing the security footage, but nothing I come up with properly explains _this_.” Merlin turned his clipboard to show Harry the footage of him attempting to strangle himself, which the dedicated staff of Kingsman medical tried to prevent him from doing. 

It was to Harry’s benefit that the frown on his face looked more like confusion than displeasure. He sighed and leaned back into the pillow, picking idly at imaginary dust on his stark-white blanket. “I am just as befuddled as you are, my friend. I don’t even recall doing that to myself.”

“I was right about having you observed, at least.” Merlin sighed, running a hand down his face. Harry took that opportunity to quickly make a face at him before returning to a more somber, Harry Hart-esque expression when the man looked back up. “You know this is going to set you back a few more months, at least? Arthur isn’t going to like this, you know.”

Arthur—that is, Chester King, could go drown in his own urine for all Harry cared. Harry the human never really _liked_ Chester, for all his begrudging respect for the man, and Haz the demon had wanted to set him aflame the moment he first set foot in his hospital ward a few months ago. Something about the man just gnawed at him, and his hatred for Chester only grew when he remembered that he never approved of Lee as Harry’s proposal—and wasn’t _that_ just absurd? Perfection ran in the Unwin blood, but obviously King was too much of a misguided _fool_ to see that.

He shook his head. No matter. After Harry and his master reunite and reform their pact, he’ll personally make it a mission to obliterate every single person who had wronged the Unwins. And he’ll start with Eggsy’s stepfather, whom he recently found out was a lowlife drug dealer by the name of Dean Baker.

“Galahad. _Harry_.” Merlin snapped his fingers in front of his face, and Harry blinked back to reality, smiling belatedly at his co-worker and friend.

“Yes, Merlin?” He blinked innocently.

“You had a mad look in your eyes just now,” Merlin began, shifting in his seat. “Like you were…”

“Like I was what?”

“Like you were possessed.”

Harry couldn’t help it: he laughed and laughed and _laughed_ , and he was so busy trying to calm himself down that he didn’t see Merlin purse his lips and make a note on his clipboard. 

 

 

At least a year was what Kingsman medical agreed on. He was to have regular visits to the in-house psychiatrist, a jovial man by the name of Dr. Roberts, as well as _mentally beneficial exercises_ , like yoga and meditation. He could have done without the one-sided conversations with the psychiatrist, but he supposed he liked the exercises. Tai Chi cleared the mind and focused energy, after all, so it made it easy for him to practice channeling his demonic powers through his human vessel. The days in that year-long rehabilitation period only dragged, however, so Harry was in a sour mood most of the time.

Though he supposed he should have seen this coming. His behavior since the time he attempted to strangle himself had begun to be more chaotic and impulsive, and Harry imagined it was just his demon nature slowly taking root in the mind of the poor human he’d unknowingly possessed. The discrepancies in his personality had now become alarming enough that he was now placed under heavy scrutiny, much to his chagrin. 

Fortunately, Kingsman couldn’t simply label him as insane, because on a deep level, he was _still_ very much Harry Hart. Beyond the occasional fits of destructive and aggressive behavior, he still practiced the same habits and mannerisms, possessed the same likes and dislikes, as well as the same… preferences.

For some reason, it gave Harry great pleasure to find out that the human he had possessed secretly preferred his own sex, and that he was, shamefully, partial to a more _youthful_ countenance. Not young enough to be woefully problematic, mind, but still, Harry couldn’t help but find this development highly amusing. Even perfect gentlemen like Harry Hart had their demons, he supposed. _Oh_. 

“For a man who’s facing indefinite downtime under observation, you’re quite cheerful,” commented Merlin, sipping on his tea as he accompanied Harry during his break.

Harry’s chuckles faded into content hums, the tip of his pen scratching against the paper as he answered the crossword puzzle. He paused at a column of boxes, and his eyes formed crescents as he read the clue for that particular puzzle.

“Merlin,” he purred, twirling the pen in his fingers. “What’s a five-letter word for a malicious being commonly known to reside in the fiery depths of hell?”

Merlin paused his typing, and he slowly looked up to stare at Harry. After a beat of silence, he said, “demon.”

Harry filled in the blanks with Merlin’s answer, and his eyes lit up. Well, what do you know. His friend was right.

 

 

The year passed by, and Harry, much to the bewilderment of the medical staff, was cleared from his observation period and approved to return to active duty. Those more aware of the goings-on of his observation expressed concern (namely Merlin), saying that Harry (and everyone around him) would benefit from an extended period of rest.

But Chester, bless him, asserted his authority as Arthur and demanded that his best agent be put back to work. Harry was then given a new mission almost immediately, and his eyes crinkled as he accepted his assignment with a smile.

His smile turned into a grin when he saw Merlin’s pinched face. He allowed this _after_ the man turned his back on him, of course.

“I assume you’ve read the file,” Merlin began, sighing as he started Harry’s debrief. “But you’re going on a particularly time-sensitive mission. Personally, I’d rather you not take this, but as Kingsman’s best, and most lethal agent, you’re the only one with a high chance of success.”

“We mustn’t tell James,” Harry said, the side of his mouth quirked up.

“Indeed. Glasses, please.” Merlin tapped away at his clipboard, and Harry put on his glasses to see a hologram appear in front of him. Technology. So close to magic, yet still so very different. “You are to go undercover as a widower in a middle-class suburb in Aspen, Colorado, where we’ve received word of an underground human trafficking ring to operate. We have reason to believe that one of the members of the syndicate’s inner circle lives here, and you’re going to find out who it is.”

Harry hummed. Simple enough, he supposed. But he had to wonder about the “time-sensitive” part. He voiced this concern, and Merlin sighed.

“As much I know you prefer to go for the direct route, Galahad, this mission requires more… finesse. You have to endear yourself to whomever this bastard is, and you have to wait for the yearly _auction_ , which is scheduled to happen eight months from now.”

Harry blinked slowly, and a brow rose just as steadily. “I beg your pardon? Eight _months_?”

“Yes. Your mission will take as long as a year, if not more. You cannot rush this mission, Galahad. Lives are at stake, and if you make at least one mistake, you will be… Galahad? Galahad, what are you doing with that chair, _put that down, man!_ ”

 

 

Harry finished the mission in eleven months, five days, and six hours. He had just shot a hole in the syndicate leader’s head, and he relished in the bubbling gurgle the woman let out as she fell to the floor, dead before her head even made impact with the polished wood. He tapped at the side of his glasses after a beat of silence, and he reported that Marie Rose Turner was dead, and the victims of the human trafficking ring were ready to be picked up.

He paused his movements as he remembered the victims—the _slaves_ , pale with despair and hopelessness, and he wondered if that had been what his master saw when he first met Harry: a poor, abused demon shackled to servitude, whether he wished for it or not.

But Harry wasn’t a slave—he’d _never_ been, because he had offered his services to the noble House of Unwin willingly, and with great pleasure. Master Eggsy had simply been misinformed of his status, and while Harry is still a bit hurt at the rejection, he knew it was the young man’s lack of education in witchcraft that had led to his rash decision. Not to mention his gentle compassion and golden heart.

He still remembered that bright-eyed look, tempted at the prospect of having a better life, yet unwilling to take advantage of Harry in order to achieve it. Harry might have been a demon, but he recognized a pure soul when he saw one.

Which was why he _had_ to get his master back. He wanted to be as close to him as possible, to bask in the bright, pure glow of his aura. It was a designation a demon of his caliber deserved, and Harry would stop at _nothing_ until he reformed his pact with the House of Unwin. With _Eggsy_.

 _“On it, Galahad. An extraction team is on its way, and our sister agency Statesman has agreed to take care of the victims.”_ Merlin paused before saying, _“Well done, Galahad. I had my doubts, but it seems like you’re back with us after all.”_

“I never left, old friend,” he said, grinning to himself as he hid his gun in his suit jacket. He stepped over the woman’s corpse, as well as a few others, as he sauntered out of the gaudy office. “Anything else I need to know?”

 _“None as of—wait. There is_ one _thing.”_

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, brows furrowing when he registered the solemn tone in Merlin’s voice. 

 _“It’s Lancelot._ James _.”_ Merlin paused, sighing. _“He’s dead.”_

 

 

**✪ Part Three: Arse Kicker ✪**

 

 

Grieving for those not of Unwin blood was very strange, Harry decided. As a demon who had served (and _will continue serving_ , thank you very much) a noble house of witches, he had no time and no desire to be sentimental about others. There were the Unwin consorts, of course, but Harry had protected and served them out of obligation rather than actual desire. He had no real love for them, and the moment they turn infidel, Harry was quick to pass judgment, torturing them for the same amount of time his master or mistress mourned their betrayal. This was also true for those who leave and remarry, but Eggsy’s mother had been an exception. Eggsy had personally requested Harry to heal her, and who was Harry to deny his master?

But James Spencer had been Harry the human’s friend. Therefore, in a way, _Harry the demon’s_ friend, too. Rather, just _Harry’s friend_ , now, since Harry can no longer sense any conflicting identities in his consciousness. 

He truly _was_ Harry now. What a revelation.

They toasted to Lancelot, and Harry was forced to swallow the swill Chester insisted on keeping in their stores. But it was a brew that perfectly paralleled the somber occasion for which it was consumed, so Harry appreciated the appropriateness of it, at least. 

He put the glass down and sat back, barely listening to Merlin as he debriefed them on James’s mission, the one about biochemicals that turned humans homicidal. 

“He attempted a solo rescue mission when he stumbled upon a kidnapping, and before he died, he sent us this.” A name appeared on the holographic screen, and Chester squinted at the unfamiliar name.

“Who is Professor Arnold?”

“A climate change doomsayer who claims that the increasing global warming is the planet attempting to heal itself, or some such.”

Harry’s brow quirked up. Well, that wasn’t exactly _wrong_ , but he supposed that humans were too pigheaded to see the warnings clearly laid out in front of them. Fortunately, the peak of the warming, and the worldwide freezing that would follow, would take many years to happen yet, so Eggsy was safe from such a traumatic event.

A small smile found its way to his face. He was going to see Eggsy again. The thought was enough to brighten his mood, and James’s death was already a thing of the past. 

He was in such a good mood that he didn’t completely mind Chester’s subtle jab at him proposing master Lee all those years ago. An insult like that would have earned him a slow death by impalement, if Harry had been in the mood to be menacing. But no, Harry needed to exude an aura of _calm_ today. After all, he was going to reunite with master Eggsy.

“Galahad,” came Merlin’s call, and Harry barely resisted rolling his eyes before turning to face Kingsman’s quartermaster, who had a queer look on his face. “Going somewhere?”

“Indeed. I have a suitable candidate in mind, and I intend to properly prepare him for what’s to come.” Harry had no such plans, but it wouldn’t do for Merlin to know that. Not yet, at least.

“You’re talking about Lee’s son, aren’t you,” Merlin said, phrasing it like a question but _definitely_ meaning it like a statement.

“Yes,” Harry said, his eyes turning into crescents as he smiled. “Boy deserves a better life than he has now, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would definitely say so, but his profile tells a different story,” Merlin approached him, tapping away at his clipboard and frowning. “Abysmal grades in secondary, pulling out from military training, multiple accounts of petty theft and vandalism—“

“Words on paper do not define a person. Not fully,” Harry interjected firmly, giving his friend a flat look before smiling again. “Well. I’m off. Do let me know if there are updates on James’s case.”

“I’m surprised you’re not taking over his mission, by the way. Though I’m honestly a little relieved, considering you just came back from a long-term mission.”

“Perhaps the cool weather had calmed me down some.” Harry pushed the shop doors open, relishing in the high-pitched ding of the bell. “Goodbye, Merlin. I’ll see you when I see you.”

Merlin snorted, waving him off. “You say that as if you’re leaving for good.”

Harry simply smiled, and then he was gone.

 

 

Perhaps it was his human body’s old age that had caused the temporary bout of forgetfulness, Harry thought as he wandered the streets of London, hours into the day, still without his master by his side. In truth, however, he had just been so _excited_ to see Eggsy again that he forgot one tiny, but very important detail: since his tether to the Unwin blood was severed, he had no real way of finding Eggsy, thus making his quest admittedly, _embarrassingly_ , more difficult than it should be.

He breathed in through his nose, and exhaled the same way, smoke coming out of his nostrils. Oh, it truly wasn’t Eggsy’s fault that he had recklessly broken their pact, but how Harry wished his tragically clueless master had thought of the repercussions _first_ before doing anything.

But alas, rash decision making woefully ran in the family, it seemed. Harry could list the entire Unwin line as proof: from his beautiful master Eggsy who had broken their pact, then all the way back to brave master Gareth who could eat fire but apparently not almonds.

Was Eggsy allergic to nuts, as well? Oh, how the thought gave him much anxiety. He must find his wayward master at once!

But his search was proving useless so far. He had already stalked off to the young man’s usual haunts: the pub, the park, the decrepit, abandoned building where he practiced his parkour, but still, no sign of copper-blond or blue-greens. Harry’s mood grew more and more foul as the day dragged on to the purplish cusp of night, and he spared a glance at the flickering lamp post that had suspiciously bent itself in half behind him.

He tapped a finger to his chin. It seemed his control over his powers still needed a bit of work. He would have cared more about this, if his master’s home hadn’t come into his line of vision. 

He beamed. Hopefully, his search for his master will end here. 

With the grace of a cat, he swiftly and silently made his way up the side of the building, perching outside the window he knew that led to Eggsy’s room. He took a peek inside and frowned, cursing under his breath when his master was nowhere to be seen.

For the love of all things unholy, _why was his master so hard to catch?_

He was about to jump back down to the ground when he heard loud yelling from inside the flat. Narrowing his eyes, he opened the window and crept inside, pressing his ear against the door to listen to the shouts and curses.

 _“That little fucker,”_ hissed a voice, and a cry erupted from one side of the room. It was too high to have come from Eggsy’s mother, so Harry assumed it was made by his master’s half-sister. _“Think he can fuck with me boys and get away with it? Rottie, you can do what you want with the little shit, and—fuck off, Michelle, I don’t give a fuck, he ain’t getting away with it this time!”_

Harry’s eyes narrowed into slits as he listened to Dean Baker’s barking rage. He was tempted to take care of him now and be done with it, but seeing as his master’s well-being was at risk, Harry had to be patient. If playing spy at Kingsman had taught him anything, it was that.

After getting Eggsy’s current location—The Black Prince? Buggering _fuck_ , he had just been there!—he crept out of the room and easily jumped down towards the pavement. He might have spooked a cat or two, but he didn’t care. What’s important was getting his master to safety. 

He craned his neck and relished the sound of popping bones. He rolled his shoulders, tucked his brolly under his arm, and got into position, steadying himself. Admittedly, he shouldn’t be doing this without testing it first, but time was of the essence.

Tucking his glasses in his suit pocket, he kicked the ground with his foot, vanishing in a blur of chestnut brown and pinstripe grey.

 

 

Harry entered The Black Prince with purpose, and his eyes scanned the place, the patrons going quiet the moment he entered the establishment. His eyes fell on a group of delinquents who had been in the middle of ranting about someone named _Muggsy_ , and he had a feeling he just found _Rottie_.

“Oi, what the fuck you lookin’ at, granddad?” was the lanky young man’s version of a threat, and he barely got out of his booth when Harry did him the honors, grabbing him by the throat and holding him up in the air. “Oi, what the _fuck_ —“

“I’d limit my answers to a few words, if I were you, because at _this_ point.” Harry stressed his words by adding pressure to Rottie’s neck, watching as Rottie gagged and kicked. “I’m at the end of my fucking patience.”

“W-Who the fuck’re you? I ain’t never seen you before!” he choked out, gasping when Harry squeezed his throat again. “I never done _nothin’_ to you!”

“Oi, let ‘im go you fuckin’—“ The stout punk never got to finish his sentence, as Harry used his _brolly_ to send him flying across the room, and he did all of this without taking his eyes off Rottie. 

The punk groaned and went limp, and the entire pub just _froze_.

“What the fuck,” Rottie whispered, his eyes shifting wildly between his friend and Harry. He turned towards the other patrons, begging silently for someone to help him. “What the _fuck_!”

“Manners, young man.” Harry narrowed his glowing red eyes and tilted his head. Rottie held his breath. “Now, tell me: where is Eggsy?”

“M-Muggsy? This’s about fuckin’ _Muggsy_ —“ 

“I’m warning you. If you don’t refrain from using such vulgar language, I’m going to have to teach you some manners.” 

Rottie gagged when Harry tightened his hold, but he was apparently too stupid to take Harry seriously. He snarled. “What the fuck you want with a rent boy like ‘im? He suckin’ your cock or—“

Harry spun and slammed Rottie down the nearest table, and its previous occupants quickly jumped away. Rottie groaned, and he howled as Harry repeated this several times.

“Manners,” _slam_ , “maketh,” _crash_ , “man,” _bang_.

The table was crushed to pieces, dust littering the floor, and Rottie became as limp as a ragdoll. But he was still conscious enough to register that Harry wasn’t done, given the way he whimpered when Harry lifted him up again.

“This is my last warning, _boy_ ,” Harry said, voice low and adopting an echoing edge to it. He leaned close and snarled, fangs bared. “W̤̟ḩ̳̠̠̭̞̞e̵̱̮͝r̜̺̪̻e̶̴̼̮͡ ͍̩͡i͎̤͙̻̘͉̱̥͘s͇̟ ̴͈͈͍̝̱͉̖͞h̰̝̹̼̜̪̩͢͝ę̝͇̠͓̭?̪̲͘͞”

“C-C-Car,” Rottie whimpered out, and the front of pants turned darker and darker. “C-Coppers chasin’ him. T-That’s all I know, _I swear_.”

And that was all Harry needed to know. After a beat of silence, he snarled and threw Rottie across the room, the man colliding painfully with the wall before skidding down to fall on top of his friend. The patrons gasped and screamed, and oh, wasn’t that just music to Harry’s ears?

He smiled sweetly at them all, batting his lashes for the heck of it. “I trust this shall remain hush-hush? Well, I’ll be on my way, then. Have a good night, everyone.”

The pub was silent as he left, and it remained so long after he was gone, as everyone quickly scrambled out, not wanting to risk the demonic gentleman coming back to finish the job.

 

 

Finding Eggsy was easy after that. All Harry had to do was follow the trail of car accidents along the streets, and eventually, he found his lovely master being held against the wall, a policeman cuffing his hands and telling him to remain silent, if he knew what was good for him.

Harry snarled at the way the policeman handled his master so carelessly. That was absolutely unacceptable. With a twist of his wrist, the policeman’s neck snapped, and he fell to the ground, dead and motionless.

And Eggsy just stood there, his eyes blown wide as they trained on the corpse, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

The policeman’s partner, who had been inspecting the yellow car’s license plate, lifted his head up and raced to his dead partner’s side. “Oi, what’re you—“

With another flick of Harry’s wrist, he was dead, too.

“Shit, shit, shit,” came from Eggsy’s lips, an endless litany of panic and fear as Harry sauntered up to him. He tried running in the other direction, but Harry used the bent lamp post to block his path, and Eggsy screeched to a halt. “The _fuck_?!”

“Language, master,” he chided, shaking his head, standing a few feet away from the young man he had desperately wanted to reunite with—and here he was, in his rough, beautiful glory, and _oh,_ Harry could not ask for a more perfect master.

He was, unfortunately, too thin for Harry’s liking. The demon frowned as he took in the sharp cut of the young man’s cheekbones, and the paleness of his skin. He tutted.

Eggsy squinted at him, a silent question hanging in the air. After a few beats of silence, something must have clicked, for he widened his eyes, treating Harry to the sight of familiar blue-greens. 

He sighed. How Harry missed those eyes. 

“…No.” Eggsy shook his head. His bottom lip wobbled, and the shaking turned desperate as he fell to his knees. “No, no, _no_ , it can’t be—“

“Oh, but it _can_ ,” Harry said with relish, and he slowly went down on his knees to meet his master’s wild gaze, and his large smile proudly displayed his sharp, pearly whites. Feeling a little whimsical, he raised his hands and waved them around, grinning like a loon.

“ _Hello_ , master,” he greeted brightly. “I’m _baaack_.”

 

 

✪ **Part Four: Tear Jerker ✪**

 

 

It had been over an hour since their reunion, and Eggsy wouldn’t stop gaping at him. This was perfectly fine with Harry, however, as his master had just gone through a rather traumatic experience, and he definitely needed time to acquaint himself with Harry’s new face. Harry personally had no need for such things, because he had long since memorized Eggsy’s face and aura, therefore he could focus on guiding his wayward master back to his flat without any distractions.

They had just turned down the familiar, dingy street of Rowley Way when Eggsy seemed to have snapped out of his stupor, and he jumped out of Harry’s reach, his now free hands forming fists as he got into a defensive stance.

Harry sighed. “Master, what are you doing?” he asked, as if he had no idea why Eggsy started bouncing in place with his fists in the air.

“What’s it look like? I ain’t lettin’ no demon take my soul or nothin’,” Eggsy said, covering the lower half of his face with his fists. “So gimme the best ya got, bruv. I ain’t scared o’ no demon!”

Eggsy punched the air, _one, two, three_ , and Harry just stared at him, too stunned to correct the young man’s _terribly_ misguided assumption that he could beat a demon with something primitive like _fist fighting_. The demon pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. 

This, _this_ was why Harry heavily disapproved Margaret marrying a Christian; most of them were misinformed, ignorant sheep who believed in everything their supposed leaders spouted, which included the teaching that all demons were inherently evil, and that their purpose in life was to prey on innocent humans and feast on their souls. While Harry definitely _knew_ some demons who did that, most of his kind were indifferent to humans. Harry is one of the few who was willing to live among them—as long as he remained close to the Unwins, of course.

And now, because of his unfortunate upbringing, Eggsy was under the impression that Harry was only interested in eating his soul—which was completely _preposterous_ , by the way. Why the fuck would he do that? He preferred his master’s sweet, beautiful soul safely ensconced in his temporary vessel, thank you very much. It was easier to serve him that way, and while having an incorporeal master wasn’t that strange, Harry was just too lazy to make sure that Eggsy didn’t accidentally end up going through the Veil every now and then to let his master’s soul run free.

 _Remember Theresa Unwin_ , his mind supplied. He sighed at the memory. Definitely easier to keep Eggsy’s soul in his body, yes.

A light pat on his chest pulled Harry back to the present, and he looked down, amused, as Eggsy threw an experimental punch at him. Harry blinked slowly as Eggsy continued throwing ineffectual punches, and he sighed and grasped the boy’s wrists, smirking when doing so drew shrieks of terror from the now twenty-three-year-old. Dear heavens, were boys his age still able to scream that way? Apparently so.

“Master, please stop screaming,” he requested, taking both wrists in one hand and using the other to put a finger to the young man’s lips. “You will draw unwanted attention.”

Eggsy drew his head back. “It ain’t unwanted if I _want it_ , you wanker! And why should I listen to you? You’s a demon! You’s—You’s gonna suck my soul, and you’s probably mad about what happened last time, I think, so I ain’t—“

“ _Really_ , master, jumping to conclusions is unbecoming of a gentleman,” Harry said, sniffing. He lowered his hand, but he didn’t let go of his master’s wrists. He adjusted the young man’s snapback and dusted off his shoulders. “And I will _never_ lay a finger on your soul. It would be counterproductive to my designation, as I am a demon bound to serving your family for all eternity.”

“But that’s just it, ain’t it? You ain’t _bound_ to me no more.” Eggsy pulled at his wrists, scowling when he couldn’t shake Harry’s death grip. “I set you free three years ago. You’s not my demon. Not anymore.”

“ _Poppycock_. I did not consent to that ritual, and you know it.” Harry allowed his eyes to flash a dangerous red, and Eggsy stilled, gulping. “The Pact Breaker ritual should only be performed when _both_ parties wish to end the contract. As I do not recall _ever_ consenting to breaking our pact, you had grossly exploited your power and authority, and all for what? Your so-called _morality_.”

“Fuck you, bruv, you can’t talk to me like that,” Eggsy scoffed, though he backed away as far as he could, eyes shifting to the sides.

“Oh, but I can. You violated the terms, _which you did not even read_ ,” Harry stressed when Eggsy opened his mouth to protest. “And broke a pact without considering the repercussions of your actions.”

“Well, I’m fucking _sorry_ , bruv, but it ain’t like I have anyone to teach me this shit! My da fuckin’ died before he could teach me anythin’!”

“Always someone’s fault, isn’t it?” Harry tutted, feeling a tad disappointed. “You’re saying it’s master Lee’s fault that you didn’t read everything before acting impulsively, not even aware that violating something as absolute as a contract could cost you greatly?”

“What’s that mean?” Eggsy asked after a beat of silence.

“It _means_ , dimwitted master of mine,” Harry began with a purring edge to his voice, making Eggsy shiver. “That if I so wished, I could have demanded your _life_ as payment for you violating a pact that has stood for more than four hundred years.”

He could feel Eggsy shaking under his hold, and oh, was it wrong of him to feel a wicked thrill from seeing his master quiver so? It was probably a residual trace of Harry the human’s personality. What a sadist. 

Still, Harry did _not_ want to strike fear into his master’s heart, though he did intend to chastise him a little. Sighing, he brought the young man’s hands up till they were resting on his chest: an act of humility and trust, as a demon’s heart was their greatest vulnerability. “But no, I will not demand such a thing, even though you really _hurt_ me when you severed our bond all those years ago. Alas, what hurt more than your rejection was your absence, and my desire to see you again, to _serve_ you again, was greater than any ill feelings that I might have towards you.

“But I have to know, master: why? Why did you set me free when I begged you not to?” Harry asked, voice barely above a whisper as his brown eyes pleaded. 

Eggsy’s expression crumbled. He looked away, shaking his head. “I had to do it, bruv. There was no way I was gonna let you follow me ‘round and make you do shit you might not wanna do. It ain’t right. And after what me grandmum did to ya, I thought you didn’t want anythin’ to do with me family no more.”

“Assumptions. Gross assumptions, all of it,” Harry spat. “It’s true that mistress Margaret had hurt me, but you hurt me more by ending our contract. But still, here I am, aren’t I? Ready to serve, ready to be with my master again.”

“That’s bullshit, bruv!” Eggsy hollered, the skin around his eyes turning red as they misted. “You ain’t foolin’ me or nothin’! You’s fuckin’ angry at me, and you expect me to believe you when you say you just wanna serve me family again? How the fuck do I know you ain’t gonna stab me in the back when you get the chance?” 

“I will _never_ ,” Harry growled, fangs bared and red eyes ablaze. “ _Ever_ betray you, master. I swore myself to you, to your family, and I will _fucking_ keep my oath if it kills me.”

“You’re mental! What kind of fuckin’ demon are you?”

“A very _damn_ good demon, if you would only _think_ and make the right choices for once in your life!”

“And how many fucking choices do you think I have? _Look at where I fucking live_!” Eggsy screamed, his head turning to look at the estates. “And I ain’t got no time for thinkin’ ‘cause, in this neighborhood, you even take _one second_ longer to make a choice, and you’re fucking dead. You get me? One wrong move, and I’m just another dead body on the street! Do you want that?

“I’m sorry if I violated your fuckin’ _contract_ or whatever, but I did what I thought was right. I set you free ‘cause I ain’t… I ain’t gonna let anyone, not even a fuckin’ _demon_ , feel trapped in a situation they never wanted to be in! ‘Cause I _know_ what it feels like to be trapped, bruv. I fuckin’ know what it’s like to want to say no but can’t ‘cause everyone I care about gets fucked if I do!

“So I’m sorry. All right? I’m fuckin’ _sorry_.” Eggsy sobbed. “Didn’t mean to hurt you. I just thought I’d do something good for _you_ , ‘cause fuck knows, after all the shit you’ve been through, and after all that you’ve done for me family, for me and me _mum_ , you deserve the fuckin’ world, if not better.”

 

 

See, the thing was, Harry had existed for a very, very long time, but he could only recall two distinct instances wherein he was rendered so speechless. The first had been when master Gareth had, against all common sense at the time, kept him safe from visiting demon slayers and exorcists. The second time was mistress Margaret telling him that she had had enough of his meddling, and subsequently locked him up in a prison of her own design. Those instances had surprised him because they had gone against logic and expectation. They had taught him both hope and betrayal, elation and disappointment. After that, it was difficult for Harry to be surprised anymore, because he learned to think of _all_ possibilities and prepare for them. It was all for his survival, for his sanity.

And yet, here he was, Oxfords rooted to the ground, staring at Eggsy with wide, unbelieving eyes. The young man did the unthinkable and surprised him by doing something Margaret, Beatrice, Dominic, Lawrence, Francis, Rachel—the entire Unwin clan, and even _Gareth_ never did.

He had treated Harry like an _equal._

A fire came to life in Harry’s eyes as they softened, a pair of flickering flames in the dark, empty street. All he could focus on was the shaking form of his master—his _Eggsy_ , and really, that was what he was, wasn’t he? Eggsy was his. His master, his human. His, his, _his._

“Master, look at me. _Look at me_ ,” he urged softly, but firmly, and when Eggsy’s wet blue-greens met his honey-browns, Harry smiled, using his thumb to press circles onto the young man’s chin. “I apologize for distressing you greatly. I admit I had let my temper get the best of me, but that is no excuse. I had upset you, and for that I am sorry. Will you ever forgive me, dear master?”

“ _Huh_?” The owlish look made his master look more innocent than he appeared. “Forgive _you_? Ain’t that supposed to be my line, or summat? I mean, you was all—” 

“I know what I said, master. And I understand that it had been your compassionate heart that urged you to set me free, so I bear you no ill will. Not anymore. But when I said that serving your family brings me great pleasure, I meant it. Nothing gives me greater joy than knowing I’ve made an Unwin happy, because it was all due to the bravery of an Unwin that I still exist to this day.”

Eggsy shook his head, brow raised. “B-But that’s just it! You only think like that _‘cause_ you’s just grateful for what my ancestor did. But it’s been _years,_ and the contract _is_ technically broken—“

“After you’ve violated the terms,” Harry reminded him gently.

“S-Still. You’s been a servant for a _long_ time, so you’re probably just doin’ this ‘cause you don’t know what else to do,” Eggsy said, averting his eyes and biting his lips. “I’ve read about that stuff, ya know, since my mum kinda went crazy ever since da died. I read that abuse victims take so long to leave their abusers ‘cause they’s still trying to convince themselves they still love whoever’s hurtin’ them. And mum won’t leave Dean no matter how hard he hits her.”

“And is that what you think I am, master?” Harry asked softly, thumb migrating up to press gently into the young man’s cheek. “Do you think I’m a victim?”

“W-Well. _Yeah_. Yeah, I figure you are. Me grandmum kept you in a prison for a long time, and for a stupid reason, too, and yet you’re here and still…”

“That was mistress Margaret, Eggsy. And as far as I know, _she’s gone_ ,” Harry said softly. He let go of Eggsy’s wrists so he could use both of his hands to cup his master’s face. The young man’s eyes were still glassy as they met his fiery gaze, searching for any lie, any sign of deception. “ _You_ are the head of the Unwin clan now, and the very last one, at that. And so far you’ve only shown me how gentle and compassionate you are. A far cry from mistress Margaret, who saw me as little more than a convenient way to sneak out of the property to visit that mousy Peter. So believe me when I say that I’m here because of _you_.”

“Why? Why _me_?” Eggsy asked, breathy and bemused.

Harry’s eyes turned to crescents. “Because, like you said, I deserve the fucking world, if not better. And to me, _you’re_ better than the fucking world.”

Harry’s words must have struck something in Eggsy, because tears started welling in his eyes. He shook his head and muttered obscenities, cursing at himself for crying like a baby again. Harry soothed him by crooning and wiping the stray tears away, keeping him close to his warm body.

“There, there, master,” he soothed, taking off Eggsy’s snapback so he could run a hand through copper-blond locks. They were slightly greasy, but Harry didn’t mind. “You needn’t worry. I’m here now.”

“You—You fuckin’ _wanker_. Silver-tongued, you are. Sayin’ all that shit and makin’ me— _fuck_ ,” Eggsy sniffed, and Harry lent him his handkerchief, which he blowed into. “You’s a fuckin’ stupid demon. I’m just a pleb. Ain’t better than the world. Barely worth anythin’.”

“Oh, _master_.” Harry’s heart hurt at the declaration, as if it were gospel. He jerked when he heard a series of beeps from his glasses, which was still kept in his breast pocket. He fished them out and looked at the lens to read Merlin’s message. They were expected back at HQ soon, otherwise Eggsy would be late for the recruits’ orientation.

He snorted. Eggsy wasn’t going to be late for anything, because as of today, Harry was no longer a Kingsman agent. As such, he had no obligation to bring in a candidate for the post James left behind.

“Wassat?” Eggsy asked, wiping snot from his nose as he stared at Harry’s glowing lenses. “You’s doin’ magic or summat?”

“It matters not.” Harry tapped the side of his frames to shut the glasses off, and with a bit of demonic power, short-circuited the gadget, leaving it harmless and ordinary. He severed the trackers on his person, particularly the ones on the watch, Rainmaker, and the signet ring. After he was done, he rolled his shoulders, taking in his first breath as a free man.

Well, _relatively_ free man. He was bound to serve his master, after all.

“So,” Eggsy began, fidgeting with the handkerchief in his hands. “What happens now? I mean, I guess we’re okay now an’ all… but I’m kind of a criminal now, and I bet you’s made a scene somewhere, considerin’ you was able to find me. Or is that just a demon radar thing?”

Harry sighed at the reminder. ”Unfortunately, whatever _demon radar_ I possessed became useless the moment you severed our bond. So the first thing on our agenda should be the reformation of our pact.”

“You’s still on about that?” Eggsy asked weakly, wincing and pulling at the handkerchief.

“Yes, I’m still quite _on about that,_ ” Harry said, rolling his eyes. Then he smiled sweetly, drawing circles on Eggsy’s soft skin as he leaned close. “After all, you _did_ just violate the contract terms. That is unbecoming of a gentleman, least of all a proper witch.”

“But I ain’t a witch. Not yet. I read that—“

“Oh, that’s just a technicality, dear master. A simple ritual will fix that right away. What matters is that you have _witch blood_ flowing in your veins, and my, how the Old Blood sings so beautifully in you.”

“…Why do I get the feelin’ you’s just makin’ shit up.”

“Well, you wouldn’t exactly know, would you? You are grossly uneducated on all matters witchcraft. Which brings us to our next agenda: educate you on how to be a proper witch, for loyal to you I may be, I will not suffer a dimwitted master.”

“ _Oi_! Am not a dimwit! I read the book and stuff—“

“ _Grimoire_.”

“Potato, yam, _same thing_. Anyways, I read the fuckin’ book, and I’ve made some of them salves for injuries and shit. Was how I got me and me mum through Dean’s abuse, but three years ago we was low on money, so—“

“The grimoire does not explain everything, my dear master, and I doubt you were able to access all the pages, as you have yet to be fully inducted into witchcraft.” Harry raised a brow at his master. “Unless you’ve managed to perform the ritual without my knowing?”

Eggsy scowled and turned away. “I ain’t got no money for some fancy stone catalyst thing. And wouldn’t have space to meditate, anyway, since me room’s cramped, and Dean’s never let me rest easy since he first latched onto me mum.”

“So that is our agenda for the next two years, then. Educating you on _proper_ witchcraft history and practice, and preparing you for your ritual. It will be easy, now that I’m here to help you,” Harry said, pressing a comforting weight on his master’s back.

Eggsy’s cheeks turned a few shades pinker, and Harry couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “…thanks. I still don’t get why you’d wanna stay with the grandson of the woman who imprisoned ya, but you helped me lots—before and now. So… thanks, Haz. Really.”

“You are most welcome, master.” Harry felt warmth spike up his chest at being called his _true_ name. But then, “it’s Harry, now, however. Harry Hart. At least, that was the name of the human who first inhabited this body.”

Eggsy stopped in his tracks, his head whipping to face Harry so he could stare at him. “You _what_?”

Harry blinked and tilted his head at his master. “Did you think I created this body by myself? I may be a demon, master, but I did not have a tether to the mortal plane after you relinquished me from servitude. And creating a body would require _your_ help, anyway, which, at the time, I did not have.

“After you set me free, I woke up in the Void, and then found myself in Harold Reginald Hart’s body. The man’s soul had either merged with mine, thus making me, him, or I might have absorbed it unknowingly. I’m not sure what happened, actually. Oh, well.

“Oh, by the way, did you know,” Harry continued, blissfully unaware of the wild look in Eggsy’s eyes. “Harry Hart was the reason why your father is dead. Well, not _the_ reason, of course, but it was his carelessness that led to your father’s demise. Master Lee sacrificed himself for the man, you see, and _oh_ , he was training to be a spy, of all things. A _spy,_ master, how fascinating is that…”


	2. Chapter 2

**✪ Part Five: Life Changer ✪**

 

 

_1612_

_The mortal plane had become a very dangerous place. Just this year, several “witches” had been tried and hanged in Pendle, after being found guilty of murder and maleficium—harming another by the use of “witchcraft.” He thought nothing of it, the first time he heard about it, for that was just the fate pretenders deserved for falsely claiming themselves to be a witch. The Powers were not kind to liars._

_But then a friend of his—another demon like him—stopped attending their weekly get-togethers. A fortnight after, another friend disappeared. And then another. By the time he was the only one left in his legion, he was already desperately trying to evade the demon slayers that had gathered to rid Pendle Hill of its local “demon infestation.”_

_He cried foul over this. He and his friends meant the mortals no harm; they were simply wisps of olde who visit the mortal plane often, communing with witches who keep the Teachings alive. But the mundane often fear what they do not understand, and those blessed with the gifts from the Powers that Be are far beyond their comprehension._

_He felt cold rage for the true, noble witches who fall victim to these people’s fears. Curse the mundane and their vile god, who spread unjust lies about him and his fellows!_

_He spent the rest of the year avoiding the slayers, for though he was more than powerful enough to kill them where they all stood, he had enough foresight to know that any act of retaliation would only cause more of them to join the crusade, and even he couldn’t face hundreds of trained slayers._

_Just days before Yuletide, his fleeing eventually led him to the moors of Boulsworth, where the wide fields gave him no cover or shelter to hide from the relentless demon slayers. The trees were thick enough, but with their decaying bark and falling leaves, they would easily give out to fire’s fury. The river just yonder was too shallow, for the demon slayers were surely tall enough for their toes to reach the bottom and find him._

_Red began to wash the horizon, and he fell back against a large boulder, staring at the ground in defeat. The wind carried the voices of the slayers, and he laughed to himself, for if this were his last day in the mortal plane—his last day of existence, then surely he deserved one last moment of joy, if only a mockery of it!_

_Something dropped in the water, and he twisted his half-formed spectral body to investigate. He froze when he saw a bright, golden light twinkling in the depths of the river, and he summoned it with a crudely-formed hand. But this was a mistake, apparently, because the moment his form touched the stone, he found himself growing smaller and smaller, and the boulder turned into a mountain, and the river into a sea._

_He struggled against the amber cage until damp footfalls made him freeze, and he found himself being carried in two palms._

_When he turned, he saw a beautiful mix of blue and green._

_“Hush, spirit,” the stranger crooned softly to him, his eyes turning into pairs of turquoise as they glittered under the light of the moon. He cradled the stone to his chest, like a babe in need of comfort. The voices of the slayers got closer, and closer… and then, nothing._

_“You are safe now.”_

 

 

When Harry bound himself to the House of Unwin four centuries ago, he vowed that he would value his charge’s happiness above all else. After all, what better way to show his eternal gratitude by bringing joy to his master or mistress? His imprisonment forty years ago didn’t even count as a folly, for it was still the will of his last mistress that led to his decades-long sleep. If mistress Margaret’s happiness meant his banishment, he would yield, no matter his personal feelings.

That being said, perhaps informing Eggsy of Harry the human’s involvement in master Lee’s demise had been an error on his part, for his master was definitely _not_ happy to hear about it. The young man had started screaming again, though strangely enough, not for the reason Harry assumed it had been. His master had other priorities than seeking vengeance on behalf of his father, it seemed. Humans were so strange.

“You possessed someone. You fucking possessed the bloke who gave me _this fucking medal_.” Eggsy fished out the chain around his neck and showed Harry the medal which, hilariously enough, bore the crest of Kingsman. Such flare for drama, his human self. “What the fuck does that mean? Is this some sort of destiny shit? That’s just fuckin’ _freaky_ , mate, I ain’t down for it!”

“Now, master,” Harry chided softly, patting at the wheezing boy’s cheek. “You shouldn’t overexert yourself. You tend to make unwise decisions when you’re at the peak of emotion. Need I remind you about your stealing and crashing of that young man’s car? Quite reckless, that.”

Eggsy threw his hands up in the air. “Who cares about fuckin’ Rottie and his ugly car! You’s possessing the bloke who gave me this medal! Don’t that sound _fucking freaky_ to you?!”

Harry beamed, lashes fluttering. “I rather think it’s poetic. The universe conspired to bring me back to the mortal plane by sticking me inside the body of a comatose man who just so _happened_ to have had a significant connection to you. Truly, that means we were meant to be together, master.”

Eggsy’s jaw dropped. “You really believe that shit, don’t ya?”

“Of course. Now.” Harry patted Eggsy’s cheek again, steering the gaping young man forward when he made no move to climb up the stairs. “ _Onward_. We shall get your things and your grimoire, and we shall embark on a journey of self-discovery and other classic master-servant shenanigans, evading our foes both mundane and magical. I daresay we shall have quite the fun adventure waiting for us, master. Exciting, isn’t it?”

When Eggsy didn’t give him a response (or at least a coherent one, as Eggsy just stared at nothing and started spouting gibberish), Harry shrugged and silently led his master up the building. They needed to hurry a bit, as Harry was sure that Merlin would have noticed something amiss with his trackers by now. Hopefully, he would simply assume that Harry was just being Harry—stubborn and wanting to do things his way, even if he ended up being late ( _again_ ). Since Rowley Way hadn’t been invaded by Kingsman agents just yet, Harry was confident that that would be the case.

“Here we are,” Harry said, his nose scrunching up slightly at the beat-up state of the door. But he donned a smile for Eggsy as he let the still-babbling young man take the lead this time. Eggsy gripped the doorknob, and after a twist and a jiggle, the door opened to reveal the inside of his flat.

And it was only then that Harry remembered another _tiny_ but very important detail: the Bakers. Particularly, a certain Dean Anthony Baker whose idea of greeting his stepson is a punch to the mouth or a knee to the stomach. Tonight, it seemed that the man favored the former. 

To Harry, though, neither were acceptable acts. But he was nothing if not polite, so he stood in front of his ward, frozen as he was, and twisted the burly man’s arm before holding him up by the throat. A greeting worthy of a man like Dean Baker, he was sure. 

“W-Who the fuck’re _you_?!” Dean choked out, wheezing when Harry tightened his grip just the _tiniest_ bit.

“Dean!” Eggsy’s mother, Michelle, cried out, and she stared at Harry with wide eyes, her body shaking as she pointed at him. “Y-You let him go! Let me husband go, or I’ll call the police!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Michelle Unwin. Ah, I’m sorry, _Michelle Baker._ ” Harry gave her a sweet smile, blinking innocently when she froze. “Your husband tried to hurt my charge, and what kind of demon servant would I be if I did not protect my master? Not a very good one, I should think.”

“…Demon?” she echoed, taking a step back and glancing between Eggsy and Harry.

Eggsy sighed, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “ _Mum,_ lemme explain—“

“You used the book,” she whispered, eyes dancing as she stared at the floor. They shot up and trained on Eggsy, and she walked up to her son and slapped him across the face. “ _You used the book!_ Eggsy, I told you _never_ to touch that book! It’s evil! Your _father_ —“

Michelle shrieked when she suddenly rose to the air, hung upside down by an invisible force. She kicked and screamed and demanded to be put down, and Eggsy turned to face Harry, whose face became stony as he glared up at Michelle.

“What’re you doin’? Haz, _put her down_!” Eggsy commanded, holding his arms out and followed her shadow.

“No, I don’t think I will, master,” Harry said, pushing Dean against the wall, not batting an eyelash as Dean kicked and scratched at him. “She hurt you, therefore she must be punished.”

Eggsy flailed, desperation in his eyes. “She’s me _mum_ , Haz! A-A _consort of Unwin_ , or whatever it was you said before!”

“ _Is_ she, though?” Harry’s smile was menacing in its softness, and his eyes formed crescents when Eggsy went still, staring at him. “ _Is_ she a consort of Unwin, master?”

Eggsy didn’t speak for a long moment. His eyes slowly shifted towards the floor, and he stood out of his mother’s shadow. They narrowed as his brows furrowed, and his mouth contorted several times.

“She’s me mum, Haz. _Harry_. Put her down,” Eggsy begged, walking up to him and grabbing him by the lapels of his suit. A tear fell down his cheek. “Put her down, _please_!”

Harry’s eyes softened, and if not for Dean’s wheezing and Michelle’s shrieking, this would have been a very touching moment, indeed. With his free hand, he wiped away Eggsy’s tears, shaking his head as he spoke. “I’m afraid I cannot let her actions slide, Eggsy. She hurt you, and I won’t stand here and allow that to pass without punishment.”

“But _Harry_ , she’s me mum—“

“Who just hurt you. And who _had_ hurt you, countless times, albeit unintentionally.” His voice was soft as he crooned, rubbing Eggsy’s cheek. “Remember what you told me earlier? About abuse victims not leaving their abusers?”

Eggsy stiffened under his touch. Then his face broke. “ _Harry_ —“

“Shh, my dear master.” Harry let go of his face, and with a tilt of his head, sent Michelle flying towards the sofa. She would only suffer from mild discomfort at worst, so he wasn’t worried about accidentally killing her. To his joy, Eggsy didn’t run to her immediately, and he only stood close enough to confirm that she wasn’t too hurt.

“H-Hey. Hey, _demon_ ,” Dean wheezed out, and Harry’s head slowly turned to meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow at him, and the man had the gall to choke out a laugh. “M-Muggsy ain’t worth this shit. What’s he payin’ you, eh? His worthless soul? His fucking _arse_? That little shit wouldn’t know what to do with an all-powerful bein’ like you. You deserve a better master: someone with _goals_ , ya know?”

“Indeed. I _do_ deserve a brilliant master, don’t I?” Harry agreed, looking as though he understood what Dean was trying to offer. He smiled sweetly at the man before letting his face contort and turn _demonic_ , and Dean screamed as Harry’s sharp claws slowly sunk into his throat. Soon, his own blood in his throat drowned his screams, and Harry took great joy in watching the light slowly fade from the man’s eyes.

“Fortunately for me, I already have one. So have a nice trip to hell, Dean Anthony Baker. No one will miss you.” He retracted his claws and took a step back as Dean fell forward, twitching for a few moments before going very, very still. 

Harry sighed and straightened his hair, and with a flick of his wrist, blood splatter vanished from his clothes, and his hands were squeaky clean again. He turned towards the mother-son duo, and his eyes softened when Eggsy just sat there on the sofa, close enough to give his mother comfort, but far enough that Harry could _see_ the conflicting emotions in the young man’s eyes.

Harry turned back towards the kitchen and watched as blood pooled beneath Dean’s head. His shoes clicked on the floor as he approached the corpse, and he bent down to grab an ankle, blood streaking the floor as he dragged Dean Baker’s corpse out the door, whistling a happy tune as he did so.

While his master came to terms with what happened tonight, Harry might as well take out the rubbish, yes?

 

 

“You used the book.” Harry heard Michelle say when he came back. Her eyes, bright with mania and rage, rose to meet her son’s dim blue-greens. “I thought I told you _not_ to touch that fuckin’ book, Eggsy. And what did you do? You—You did _exactly_ what I told you not to! And now we have a fucking demon in our home!”

“Mum, please,” Eggsy begged, cradling his face in his hands. He sounded exhausted, and after everything that had happened tonight, Harry couldn’t blame him. “You don’t understand. Haz— _Harry_ ain’t evil. All that stuff people ‘ave been talking about aren’t all true. He saved me from going to prison, ya know.”

“Prison!” Michelle exclaimed, covering her mouth. “The police tried to arrest you? _Why_?”

“Crashed Rottie’s car. Then used it to wreck a police car,” Eggsy replied demurely, eyes trained on the top of the cheap table.

“Oh God,” Michelle breathed, covering her face with her hands. She shook her head and stood up from the table. “Oh, God almighty, Eggsy, _why_ —“

Harry tuned out the conversation, eyes focused on Eggsy’s back as it tensed and tensed the longer their discussion went on. He had no interest in the specifics—Michelle Baker had long since proven that she failed to raise Eggsy well, and despite understanding that the family had become quite impoverished since mistress Margaret’s Christian marriage, Harry couldn’t bring himself to be sympathetic. And wasn’t _that_ a peculiar event, altogether? 

Mistress Margaret should have taken her husband’s name when they married, as that was the norm for Christian marriages. Yet Master Lee had ended up with her maiden name—the _Unwin_ name, thus being able to pass it on to his son. The strangeness of it all didn’t occur to Harry before, but now it was glaringly obvious that something had happened to his former mistress’ marriage after Harry’s banishment. 

Was it worth looking into? Perhaps it was. What was that mousy Peter’s surname, again? He couldn’t seem to recall.

Harry sighed. Well, that was a thought for another time. Right now he had to focus on the matter at hand, which was Michelle’s deplorable parenting skills. Her decisions since the death of master Lee had been irresponsible and selfish, and they had done nothing but bring suffering to Eggsy’s life. That alone would have earned her death by madness if not for the fact that Eggsy would be _extremely cross_ with him if he had attempted to end his mother’s life.

So Harry waited, albeit begrudgingly, for the argument between mother and son to be over—because that was what it really was, wasn’t it? There was no use in pretending it was anything but, though Harry will allow Eggsy the delusion if he desired it.

“So what are you planning to do? Are you just going to _keep_ him here?” was what Harry heard Michelle say when he tuned back in. 

“And where’s he s’posed to go? He don’t wanna go anywhere else, and he shouldn’t need to,” Eggsy said, back straightening.

“Shouldn’t _need_ to—that _thing_ is a demon, Eggsy! A monster! And you want him to stay here? Around _Daisy_?”

“He ain’t a monster, mum! He ain’t gonna lay a finger on Dais’ if I ask him not to! He’ll even keep her safe, swear down!”

“And you expect me to believe that? After what he did to Dean?” she shrieked, pointing at Harry. “And what _are_ we gonna do about Dean? He brought home the money for Daisy, Eggsy! How are we gonna take care of ‘er _now_?”

“We don’t need Dean for that! I can find a job, something clean and not related to those fucking drugs—“

“You’ve been trying to look for a job for _years_ , Eggsy! And look at where that’s taken you!”

“I would’ve had a job by now if _somebody_ hadn’t gone mental and asked me to come back!”

Michelle screamed. She kicked a chair and made a mess of everything, and Eggsy just sat at the table, rubbing his face and muttering and wondering aloud what the _fuck_ he did to deserve this.

Harry reached out his hand to rub his back, and he smiled when the young man leaned towards him. Without missing a beat, Harry caught the shoe that would have hit his face if he hadn’t been a demon.

“ _Mum!_ ” Eggsy cried out, appalled. “Leave Harry alone!”

“Get your hands off me son, you murderer!” she said, completely ignoring Eggsy and pointing at Harry threateningly with the other shoe. “I’m—I’m _warning_ you. Go away and leave us alone! You’re nothing but trouble, you are!”

“Oh?” Harry asked, unable to keep himself from goading her. 

Michelle’s face reddened, the shoe wavering in the air. “T-Things like you bring nothing but trouble, yeah? G-Get out of here! Or I’m going to… I’m going to call a priest—“

Harry laughed. He laughed and laughed, because, _oh_ , humans and their misconceptions! They never failed to amuse him. She had better chances driving him away with pure salt than holy water, but Harry wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Mum, _please_ ,” Eggsy said as Harry’s laughter died down to sighs and giggles. He approached Michelle and took the shoe away from her. “Give Harry a chance. He ain’t like those demons in the movies! What everyone says and thinks of ‘em are _wrong_ —“

“Stop, Eggsy. Just… _stop_.” Michelle’s voice was quiet, but it carried to the end of the flat, full and audible. She turned her glassy eyes towards her son, mouth quivering as she continued, “I—I don’t like this, babe. I never liked it when your father told me what he was, all those years ago, but he promised he ain’t ever gonna read or use that damn book. I would’a destroyed that thing years ago if it wasn’t so fuckin’ cursed. It was fine, lettin’ it rot here, but you went and fuckin’ _used_ it. Now that _demon_ is here and has changed our lives for the worst.”

Eggsy shook his head and held his mother’s hand firmly in his. “Mum, Harry ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to our family. He’s a nice bloke, he helped me an’ everythin’. He ain’t gonna hurt you, _or_ Daisy. Not if I tell him not to.”

“I can’t risk that, Eggsy. I don’t know this… _Harry_.” She sent Harry a hateful look, pulling her hand out of her son’s hold. She rubbed her arm and faced away from him. “He’s gotta leave, Eggsy. _Now_.”

Eggsy worried his lip. “I can’t make him leave, mum. And… I don’t _want_ to. Servin’ a family is all he’s ever wanted… and I kinda owe him. Made a mistake before, and I gotta do what’s right and make it up to him.”

Michelle shook her head. “I don’t care, babe. Either he leaves… or you both do. I ain’t risking him hurting Daisy.”

“So that’s it? You just going to make me _leave_? Just like that?” Eggsy’s sorrow curdled into something hotter, something more akin to rage and resentment. Harry watched with barely concealed glee as he rounded on her, eyes burning hot with fury. “What was all that bullshit then, about you not wanting to lose me like you lost da? I threw away our only ticket to freedom from Dean ‘cause you _wanted_ me to stay! Now you’s just—you’s gonna make me leave because I want Harry around? Are you takin’ the piss, mum?!”

“He’s going to ruin your life, Eggsy! Why can’t you fucking see that?!”

“He can’t ruin my life because my life is _already_ fucking ruined, mum! And I’m so fucking tired of you not letting me fix it!”

“Eggsy—“

“I’m tired, mum! I’m _so fucking tired_!”

Well, that was Harry’s cue. With a click of his tongue, he turned on his heel and leisurely made his way to Eggsy’s room. The sounds of raised voices were music to Harry’s ears as he packed his master’s belongings in a black duffel bag he conjured out of thin air. He wouldn’t pack everything, regrettably, since they were going to be traveling on foot for a while. Kingsman was sure to label him a deserter soon, if he had not been already, so packing light was a must if they didn’t want to risk capture. He would simply provide his master with more things, if he so needed.

Gingerly, he packed the Unwin Grimoire, placing it on top of Eggsy’s folded clothes. He let his hands roam over the rich, red leather of the tome, closing his eyes and sighing. Eventually, Harry zipped the duffel bag closed, and he sat at the foot of the bed, waiting.

It was 8:14 in the evening when Eggsy came stumbling in his room, eyes bloodshot and chest heaving. Harry needed only to embrace him for the tears to start falling, and for the sobs to shake the foundations of the building. 

By 8:15, they were gone.

 

 

“She wouldn’t let me take Daisy,” Eggsy said quietly, nursing a styrofoam cup of hot cocoa between his hands. “I told her I ain’t leavin’ her alone with a baby by herself, but she didn’t budge.”

“Would you like me to collect her for you?” Harry asked seriously, using Rainmaker to shield them from, ironically, the rain that began just a quarter hour prior. The downpour created a rattling symphony as it cascaded on the metal beams of the bridge that Harry had brought them to.

Call it nostalgic whimsy, but it had been a while since he last saw Waterloo Bridge, and how immensely the view had changed.

The space between Eggsy’s brows creased, and the air between them was silent, save for the pitter patter of raindrops. He took a sip from his drink, and his mouth quirked upwards a little, knowing it tasted too good to be the cheap, instant kind. The small smile soon faded, and the sigh that escaped his lips blew the steam away. Eventually, the young man shook his head, once again blowing steam with a huff of breath.

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea, with us travelin’ a lot an’ all. Dais’ needs stability, yeah?” Eggsy bowed his head, taking another sip of his drink. “And ‘sides, as much as it pains me to admit, mum _did_ just lose Dean. Losin’ Dais’ on top of that? I think it’ll kill her. And I don’t want that, Harry.”

“And losing you?” Harry asked softly.

The smile on Eggsy’s face was far from mirthful. “She lost me a long time ago, I think. Which was why she didn’t fight me too much when I left for good this time. But she’s still me mum, so even if it hurts…”

“I understand,” Harry said, and he really did. While he had no love for his master’s mother, he accepted that _Eggsy_ loved her, and wasn’t that a testament of the young man’s pure, gentle soul? With a soft smile, he added, “I left a ward of protection around the flat, master. It’ll hide them and keep them safe.” From what, he didn’t specify, but he didn’t think his master needed to know just yet.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Eggsy said fervently, finally turning to look up at Harry. His cheeks were wet, and Harry knew it was not because of the rain. But his smile was beautiful when he said, “and I told you it’s _Eggsy_ , yeah? None of that master shit.”

Harry smiled. “Very well. _Eggsy_ , then.” Though he would always be _master_ in Harry’s mind.

Eggsy’s smile turned into a grin, and his legs swayed back and forth, eyes focused on the bright lights far below. “So. Where to now, Harry? The view’s nice an’ all, but I never fancied livin’ on top of a bridge.”

Where to, indeed. Harry turned his gaze to the east, where he knew a certain property miles and miles away stood empty, lonely, and most likely _dusty_ from more than fifty years of disuse. He thought Unwin Estate would very much like its master back, too, and it would certainly be a safe place for Eggsy to study and practice his art without the condemning eyes of the mundane. Eggsy might be curious about his ancestors’ sanctuary, as well, and Harry smiled at the thought of the deprived young man staring up at the vast property, eyes blown wide from awe and longing.

_But._

“Covent Garden, Leicester Square…” Eggsy trailed off, pointing at the tiny squares with his fingers as he named the landmarks. He must have started this little game when Harry grew quiet. Squinting, he laid one hand flat above his eyes, while the other still held the now-empty styro cup. “Piccadilly Circus should be _right_ over there, yeah? The Superdry near there’s amazin’, though it’s expensive as fuck, like everythin’ ‘round here. And o’ course, you have your toffs in Savile Row over there—“

“It’s getting late, Eggsy. We should probably retire for the night.” Harry’s gaze followed Eggsy’s briefly before he held out a hand for his master to take. Eggsy held onto it as he jumped off the metal ramp he had been sitting on to stand next to Harry. They both stared down at the blinking, bright lights crossing the bridge down below for a few moments before Harry added, smiling, “but you must be terribly hungry. Would you like to grab a bite to eat first?”

Eggsy let out a huff of air, grin more blinding than the lights scattered around London. “ _Yes_ , Harry.”

Harry sighed. No words had sounded more beautiful to his ears.

 

 

**✪ Part Six: Quick Learner ✪**

 

 

As beautiful and powerful as his master was, Harry wasn’t wrong when he said that Eggsy was grossly uneducated in all things witchcraft. He understood the reasoning for it, of course; it was very unlikely that mistress Margaret would have kept the tradition alive after marrying Peter, and while it was clear that she taught master Lee enough for him to know about the grimoire, Harry doubted that the late Unwin knew a lot about it, either. And even if he did, he had passed on long before he could teach Eggsy what he knew.  And Harry understood that. _Really._

He just… never had to be the teacher before. All his past masters and mistresses had their father or mother teach them what they needed to know, and all Harry had to do was watch and assist, if requested. Never did he have to take the reins and pass on the knowledge himself. It was both refreshing and terrifying, and in a very rare bout of insecurity, he wondered if he would be able to be the teacher his master deserved.

But master Lee was dead, and so was mistress Margaret. No Unwin witch was alive today besides Eggsy, so the young man had no one to look up to for guidance but Harry. The demon could reach out to witches from other covens, he supposed, but he wasn’t _that_ desperate. Master Gareth would never forgive him anyway, as most covens had a silent, but ever-present rivalry with each other. The more ambitious of rival witchfolk wouldn’t be able to resist exploiting an inexperienced witch of the Unwin line, and Harry would never forgive _himself_ if he allowed that to happen.

Harry nodded. Yes, there could be no other teacher for Eggsy than him. It would be a long and difficult road, and surely a taxing endeavor, but for the sake of his beautiful master, Harry would do absolutely anything. A witch with an aura as powerful as Eggsy’s would be nothing but a joy to teach, besides, and Harry was looking forward to see his potential blossom into something that would make even kings and queens bow to his might.

He was in the middle of imagining his master sitting prettily on a throne when Eggsy asked this question: “so, Harry, is there, like, anythin’ I can’t eat, or summat?”

“I beg your pardon?” Harry asked, his eyes narrowed over the top of his menu.

“Well, you see, I told you ‘bout doin’ me own research, yeah? About this witchy stuff.” Eggsy put down his own menu on the table, and he cursed when doing so caused a fork to fall onto the floor. A vigilant waitress replaced it soon after, and he gave her an embarrassed smile. “Uh, yeah, thanks. Um. So. I did me own research and stuff. Read books and the like, though I didn’t really get to read anythin’ legit until I was about fifteen or so, ‘cause the books at school were either Harry Potter or some other fantasy fiction. Nothin’ really educational, yeah?

“So was wanderin’ around by meself one night, ‘cause Dean had been fucking pissed off that night for some reason, when I came ‘cross this old bookshop. Got curious and went in, and _holy shit, Harry_ , it felt so fuckin’ weird, goin’ in there.”

“Weird how?” Harry asked, feeling slightly apprehensive. The way his master’s eyes brightened at the memory told Harry that it had been a _good_ kind of weird, but he had a feeling that he knew what kind of bookshop he was referring to.

Eggsy shrugged, cradling his chin with his hand as he stared at the ceiling. “I dunno. It was like… standin’ in front of a warm, cozy fire after spendin’ all day out durin’ the winter. Like stepping into a hot, nice-smellin’ bath after working all day long. Or, like, eating something fuckin’ _spicy_ for the first time and fallin’ in love with how it burns your tongue, and you’re a crazy wanker who can’t help but want more. I dunno. Am I makin’ any sense?”

Harry smiled softly at the young man’s descriptions, and he nodded, settling back into his chair. “I might have an idea what you’re speaking of. I assume this place is where you found some books to peruse?” 

“Yeah! Saw lots, and I kept going back there, even if the owner was a bit of a creep. Kept askin’ for my real name.” Eggsy then frowned, head tilted as he crossed his arms. “Anyway, could only read up to the first ten pages or so. It was like the rest of the pages were glued together, or summat.”

Harry nodded. “That’s because most knowledge is kept from rival witches. It is a safety measure that became popular in the early 1500’s, when rival covens began to take advantage of the chaos the witch hunts across Europe caused to steal spells and recipes of other covens, and even family heirlooms and treasures.”

“Bloody hell. While people were burnin’? _Really_?” Eggsy asked, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table. “That sounds a bit much, innit?”

Harry’s eyes turned to crescents, despite the severity of the topic. “Indeed. Before master Gareth, members of the Unwin family had been frequent victims of both the burnings and the pillaging. But after I became the family’s demon vassal, well, no one dared to steal from the family archives and stores.”

Eggsy’s eyes twinkled. “Archives? You mean we had books and shit?”

Harry nodded. “The family has a massive library, yes. And troves of precious gems, jewelry, and other magical artifacts. There are also personal grimoires kept there as well, and you’ll be able to read all sorts of stories from your ancestors.”

“Where’s it all now? Can I see?” Eggsy looked so excited, bouncing a bit in his seat and looking like he was ready to run off to wherever his family history was kept.

“In due time, Eggsy. In due time,” Harry said, feeling his gut curdling at having to brush off the topic for now. “So what exactly have you learned so far? I’ll need to know once I start officially teaching you.”

“Oh, not much, really. Just the superficial stuff, like about them holidays. Halloween’s supposed to be Samhain, that kind of stuff, yeah? And some more recipes for them salves and potions, some stuff about plants, and how precious stones are important as energy absorbers and catalysts and…”

“Eggsy? What’s wrong?” Harry asked after Eggsy went quiet. The young man looked up at him and sighed.

“I’m way behind, aren’t I? On this whole witchcraft business,” he asked quietly, looking doubtful. “I couldn’t read the grimoire too often ‘cause of Dean and mum, and whatever I found on the web couldn’t _all_ be accurate, could they?”

“What are you trying to say, master?”

“I’m sayin’ it’s gonna be hard on you, yeah? I’m just a chav, after all. Ain’t got no fancy schoolin’ or anythin’ like that. Dunno if I’ll understand everythin’.”

“I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit, Eggsy,” Harry said, reaching out to place a hand over Eggsy’s. His master’s skin was warm under his palm. “But I understand where you’re coming from. In truth, I have never been tasked with something like this before.”

Eggsy frowned. “ _This_?”

“Teaching. That is, being responsible for the witch education of my charge,” Harry explained, rubbing his thumb over Eggsy’s hand. “I won’t promise that it will always be easy sailing, but I will endeavor to give you the education you deserve. Do you accept that?”

“Y-Yeah,” Eggsy said, looking down at their hands. Slowly, he turned his palm up so that his fingers were touching the pulse on Harry’s wrist. He swallowed. “I’ll do my best, too. Don’t really look like it, but I can be smart when I wanna be.”

“Oh, I know you’ll do well. How could you not?” Harry’s eyes softened, and he reached out with his foot to brush against Eggsy’s leg. Then, he purred, “I’ll work hard for you too, _master_.”

Eggsy yelped, his hand pulled from under Harry’s and raised, and a nearby waitress mistakenly took that as a sign that Eggsy was ready to order. She stood by the table and smiled at both of them. “Are you ready to order, sirs?”

“I’ll have a slice of your most popular cake, please,” Harry ordered easily, handing the waitress the menu. He turned to Eggsy and smiled, batting his lashes. “What about you, Eggsy? Have you made a decision yet?”

“Fuckin’ demon.” Eggsy muttered under his breath. Then his eyes widened as he leaned close, covering the side of his face with the menu so the waitress can’t see him. Harry’s smile widened; his master was _so_ silly. “By the way, back to my first question: I can eat meat, right? Like, I know witches are supposed to love nature and animals and shit but I can love _eatin’_ too, right?”

“Meat is more than fine, Eggsy,” Harry answered with a chuckle, taking another sip of water.

“Aces! I’ll get _this_ then,” Eggsy pointed at the juicy steak on the picture, smiling up at the waitress. “Biggest ya got. That all right, innit, Harry?”

“Of course, Eggsy,” Harry crooned, and he grinned when the waitress shivered at the low rumble of his voice. He smiled indulgently up at her as he shooed her away with his hand, and she just nodded and hastily left them alone.

“Oi, don’t go demon-like on the innocents!” Eggsy chided, though the side of his mouth was quirked up.

Harry blinked and tilted his head. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean, Eggsy.”

Eggsy scoffed and threw the table napkin carelessly on his lap. “Yeah, right, you know what you did. You and your… creepy, sexy Satan voice.”

“I’m flattered you find my voice sexy, _master_ ,” Harry purred out the last word, grinning when Eggsy’s grin fell as he shivered. “But please don’t even compare me to that spoiled brat. I happen to be _twice_ the demon he is, thank you very much.”

Eggsy looked up, eyes wide and jaw slack. “What the fuck, he _exists_?”

“Of course,” Harry said, inspecting his fingernails. “Most demons mentioned in various human-written lore do, funnily enough. Though I’m a bit miffed that none of the neutral ones are ever mentioned, but I suppose that’s because they don’t even associate with humans in the first place, thus being unknown. Demons like _Lucifer_ are the ones that give us decent demons the bad reputation that most humans keep perpetuating, as they like torturing humans for no real reason and—master Eggsy, _really_ , put the salt shaker down, you’re terrifying the other guests…”

 

 

A week had quickly gone by since Harry rescued Eggsy from the estates. In that time, Harry had taken him away from the hustle and bustle of London and moved them to the countryside, effectively limiting Kingsman’s ways to track him, as well as to offer his master a side of the country that he’d never seen before. 

They were currently in Haworth, and their arrival had prompted Eggsy to mention Emily Brontë and her works. Despite not growing up “cultured,” Eggsy remembered what little literature he read, further proving to Harry that his initial fears of taking the mantle of mentor were for naught.

Eggsy was such a delight to teach. He already knew that his master had a high IQ, but to witness it used for endeavors besides stealing car parts and escaping the police made his heart swell with warmth and pride. Whatever Eggsy read, he memorized with speed, and whatever Harry said, he understood and questioned till he was satisfied and more knowledgable than before. Eggsy also aced every spontaneous quiz Harry would give, and the demon vassal was just so _proud_ of his beautiful master, and he strived to always tell him so.

And Eggsy would turn into the most _adorable_ shade of pink as he batted Harry’s hands away from his cheeks. It was so endearing. His master really was the best.

“So lemme get this straight, yeah,” Eggsy began as he bit into an apple Harry had “bought” for him. He had the Unwin Grimoire open before him, brows meeting in the middle as he tapped his finger on a passage in the tome. “The _Powers that Be_ are plural, but they’re also singular, and they’re many but few, and here and there, everywhere but nowhere?”

“That’s about it,” Harry confirmed, twirling Rainmaker as they strolled down the quiet street.

Eggsy paused for a moment before scrunching his nose. “That’s a little confusing, innit? How can you be here and there but no— _whoa_!”

“Careful,” Harry said, using his powers to balance his master after he had accidentally stepped on uneven ground. The cobblestone road wasn’t necessarily old, but it could definitely use some maintenance. To think what would have happened to his master if Harry hadn’t been there to save him!

“Thanks.” Eggsy gave him a grateful grin. He closed his grimoire shut and tucked it under his arm, finishing his apple quickly. “But I think the Powers are cool. So chill and not all demanding. Mum would probably throw a fit if she heard me talkin’ about them like this, though.”

“I can imagine.” Harry twirled his brolly one last time to vanish the apple core before hooking the handle on his arm. When they turned the corner of the small street they were walking through, he snapped his fingers, causing the moving CCTV cameras on the walls to spark and halt.

Eggsy flinched before turning to his companion and scowling a bit. “Why are you even doin’ that? Bit rude to destroy other people’s property, yeah?”

“Merely practicing caution,” was all Harry offered as a response.

Eggsy shook his head. “Ya know, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to ya bein’ able to do… _that_. And all sorts of mental things. Havin’ a demon friend sure is handy.”

Harry paused. He turned to Eggsy, honey brown eyes blinking slowly as warmth slowly filled his chest. “You consider me a friend?”

Eggsy scratched the back of his neck. “Well, yeah? I mean, what else do ya expect me to call ya? I ain’t callin’ you a servant or some shit like that. That don’t fly with me, yeah?” 

“But that is technically what I am, master,” Harry said. At seeing the pinched look on Eggsy’s face, he added, “but if that is what you wish to call me, then who am I to stop you? I will be your friend, if that is what you want.”

“Do _you_ want to be my friend?” Eggsy asked, eyes piercing as he stared at Harry. 

Harry smiled softly, reaching out to adjust Eggsy’s new snapback. It was pristine white, like the atrocious trainers that the young man currently wore. They would have been more tolerable if not for the angel-esque wings attached at the back. But whatever his master desired, he would give, without question.

But as for what Harry wanted…

He stared into Eggsy’s beautiful blue-greens and said, “I want Eggsy, and everything he is willing to give me. That is all.”

Eggsy grew quiet after that, but that was fine for Harry. He knew that his answer didn’t offend his master, for the young man had moved a little closer as they walked down the quiet path, his arms brushing against Harry’s after every swing.

 

 

“So, that thing you do with the cameras,” Eggsy brought up again in their motel room, settled comfortably under the covers. He looked at Harry over the top of the grimoire, squinting. “You doin’ that ‘cause I’m wanted by the police, or are ya also lookin’ out for your demon arse?”

“I can’t say I understand your question, master,” Harry responded from the en suite, staring at his reflection. With a wave of his hand, his suit melted into a mixture of red and white, then melded into something more solid and fluffy. He patted at his fluffy robe with a small smile on his face before walking out, his smile growing when Eggsy’s eyes fixated on him.

Eggsy blushed and hid behind the grimoire. Harry’s smile turned feral.

“You know what I meant, ya berk,” Eggsy retorted, words muffled behind the grimoire. “It don’t make sense for you to be so paranoid. What do we gotta hide?”

“Maybe I just like our privacy.” Harry gazed out the window, smiling softly at the quarter moon that shone brightly among the cluster of stars. The countryside truly was superior to the city, wasn’t it? “Have you memorized the runes yet, Eggsy? We can’t proceed with your training until you have.”

“Yeah, yeah, getting there. And don’t change the subject! Why we gotta be private? Nobody’s gonna find out about you unless ya let them,” Eggsy said, squinting. He closed the grimoire and put it aside, propping his head up with his hand as he stared at Harry’s back. “Come on, ‘fess up. What trouble you in, mate? Or what trouble is _Harry the human_ in?”

Harry hummed as he saw small lights flashing in the distance. Subtle, but too ostentatious for the countryside. Closing the curtains in front of the window, he walked swiftly towards his master, his robe melting back into pinstripe grey in a flash of flames.

“I suppose I’m not surprised you caught on so fast. You really are brilliant, aren’t you, master?” Harry purred, waving a hand to quickly pack all of Eggsy’s things in the black duffel bag he just conjured.

Eggsy blushed, scratching the side of his head. “I told you I can be smart when I wanna be! And this Harry probably had friends before you became him, didn’t he? They’d be lookin’ for him for sure!”

“ _Wonderful_.” Harry packed the grimoire last, zipping the duffel bag up and beaming down at the young man. “Beautiful, brilliant master.”

Eggsy coughed and turned his head away, glaring at the innocent wall. “Whatever. Stupid demon.”

“Ah, but I’m _your_ stupid demon.” Harry bent down to smoothen Eggsy’s soft, coppery hair before pulling him up into a standing position. “And you’re _my_ stupid master.”

Eggsy didn’t look up as he gave Harry the finger. “Suck on my dick, Haz.”

Harry didn’t miss a beat as he changed Eggsy’s clothes. “In the morning, if you wish.”

He caught the pillow before it hit his face, as well as his master’s fist. And foot. And other foot.

Harry sighed when Eggsy curled around his body and attempted to put him in a choke hold, yelling obscenities in his ear. Making a quick sweep around the room, he secured the bag strap over his shoulder and flipped Eggsy so that he was tucked under Harry’s arm. The young man flailed and cursed at him, and Harry snapped his fingers, vanishing them from the room.

(Three minutes later, the door to their room had been kicked open, but it was empty.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this died for a while HAHA. Um. Sorry about that? This story is TECHNICALLY already finished, but I just had so many ideas for this that I ended up changing things a lot, so I had to sit down and decide what the hell I really wanted :)) This is still around 50k, but I might make the next chapters shorter, so yeah. Next chapter we'll have some more shenanigans, because what else would you expect from such a cracky fic like this?
> 
> THANKS FOR STILL READING OMG. I promise to update soon, and with art maybe? This is unbeta'ed too so I'll return to correct any errors~


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